Passion, Obsession
by foreveryourstar
Summary: An alternate sequence of events for the second part of A Return Engagement. David returned from the war far more affected than he originally let on. He now believes that he can only find redemption within Michaela, despite her love for Sully.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own the beloved characters of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, nor am I making any money off of this. The re-characterisation of David has come from three distinctive case studies, two of which resulted from post-war combatants (thereby justifying the rating). This is my first Dr. Quinn fan fic, and my first fic in two years so c'est la vie and cheers.**

* * *

**Passion, Obsession **

**by Minnie V.**

_  
The dark, dank cellar was equally as crowded as it was sparse. He couldn't even distinguish the living and the dead. The water – it was like tasting lavatory water; the texture, the putrid smell, how could he even swallow it, let alone keep it down? The dysentery? The haunted sounds of the other inmates. You could always tell who was new – they screamed the loudest, fought the hardest. Those who had been there longer had either given into madness or lost all hope and simply waited until the reaper claimed them with the rest of their cellmates. _

_Perhaps one would say that the screams lasted all night, but he couldn't distinguish the light of day to give him hope for tomorrow. Instead the screams were a constant soundtrack. There was no hope; there was no future; there was nothing for them but the painful atrocity of a slow death. _

_Chains dug into his skin as infection festered against the rusting iron. At first, he had fought. He screamed and struggled, provoking the metal to dig into his skin. The blisters, the boils; his fingernails were imbedded along with others in the wall of the jail cell, torn from his fingers as he struggled to breathe, to remember, to live._

_The memory; he couldn't lose who he was, who he had been before the war. If he didn't have that, he would not have anything._

_Michaela._

While he had associated her with redemption, he began to feel the pangs of jealousy. He noticed how she looked upon the mountain man, a lust and desire that he had never seen in her eyes when she looked upon him during their courtship and engagement.

And she was alone with him, no less! While he was fighting his megrims! She had lain by his side, cradling his head, tending to his every need without someone watching over them. How many other times had she lain by his side?

No! He couldn't think that. His Michaela was pure; she had always remained pure. The night before he left for the war, he had begged entrance to her bed but she had shaken her head; much to his disappointment and frustration.

"_No, David. I will wait. I would wait for you forever. But… we can't do this. Not this way; not now."_

Surely she had kept her promise. She was a woman of her word.

The dirt that had invested his body, the filth that consumed him for agony; no soap, no cleaning, no bathing had gotten rid of the degradation of Andersonville. The pain he had endured still wept from his pores when he sweat from the terrors that still gripped him when he closed his eyes.

Michaela had been his means of survival; his reason for making it through the hell of war. She was to take away the pain. Make him clean. Take away the filth.

Infatuation. That's all she felt for Sully, while she had been patiently waiting for him to return. Of course, she would be reluctant at first. Honour, name, not wanting to hurt the man who had helped her; but he would take her back to Boston, she would make him clean and he would be with her in the way that nature intended. Sully was just a different taste, a different breed; curiosity had led her to Sully but propriety, honour, duty would bring her back to him.

Standing up in the filthy saloon room, he heard the commotion outside the window. The darkened space hid as much of the daylight as the threadbare curtains could with the assistance of some of his shirts; but fascination brought him to look.

There she was, in eggshell blue. The perfect pearl among so many marred.

She would be his once more.

The noise that followed the processional towards the telegraph office was alight with excitement. The sounds of congratulations and perhaps less than appropriate mentions were heard from the lips of the townspeople that were elated to see Horace and Myra finally take their steps towards marriage. Even Hank had a small grin on his face – small, yet still there. Regardless of the well-to-dos and congratulations that rang out in the street, there was a quiet calm over two people.

The coy half-smile graced her face before the lids of her eyes rose to reveal their dichotomous colour. The cerulean light of his eyes caught the light blush as she turned her attention towards him and without further motion or invitation, he guided her gently to his shoulder and placed a tender kiss to her temple, her blue hat tickling his nose a bit at the gesture. Despite the large crowd that rejoiced beside them, he heard nothing but her breathing, saw nothing but her beauty, and was completely and utterly aware of only her.

"Ma!" the young boy's voice called from the crowd, running towards her. Michaela smiled and lifted him up into her arms, still aware of Sully's hand at the small of her back. "Ma, Miss Grace asked Colleen and me t'help her clean up. Can we?"

"Colleen and I, Brian-" she started, only to receive a confused look from the figure in her arms.

"But Miss Grace didn't ask for your help, Ma. Just Colleen and me. Matthew says he is gonna stay here for a bit, too. Can I, Ma? Please?" His soft eyes looked up at her, pleading for her permission, though Michaela suspected that there would be more eating involved than cleaning in Brian's case. A soft sigh escaped her lips while a beam claimed her face as she pretended to contemplate on her answer.

Looking around, she caught Colleen's excitement as she waved at the already closed door of the couple. There was Matthew, his arm proudly across Ingrid's shoulders as he occasionally pulled her form closer to his. And then she noticed Sully gazing at her; he spoke no words but his eyes said everything. "Well," she began forcing herself to not only break her faze but look upon her son. "I need to take care of a few things at the clinic. If you promise to behave, and keep your suit clean, then…" She let her voice trail off as Colleen joined the group and looked at her in anticipation. "Yes," she set the boy down but did not get up right away. "But make sure to sneak some of the leftovers home, alright?"

"Sure, Ma!" he exclaimed, grabbing his sister's hand and racing back behind the clinic to the café. The smile claimed her lips as she regained her posture, looking up a Sully once more. A blush caught her cheeks, and she felt his body come closer to press a soft kiss to her cheek. "Let's go to the clinic," he murmured, the crowd beginning to dissipate and they walked the short distance to the door in silence.

Her hat was removed upon their entrance, placed upon the table before she reached for a small stack of patient files. Sully chuckled shortly, reaching for her hand and guiding her attention back to him. Her fingertips were brought to his lips and he gently placed a kiss upon each of her fingers, softly and tenderly as he looked into her gaze with the look, The Look, of love, devotion, and desire.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," she began, attempting to ignore his ministrations, though rapidly failing. "Myra looked so happy. As did… Horace…" Her voice faltered a bit and she looked down and away, the glint of blush remaining on her cheeks as he moved closer to her.

"Was it?" He asked, amused by her immediate reaction.

"Of course it was, Sully, you were there-" But he immediately cut her off as he dropped their hands down and pulled her against him, looking into the mismatched eyes that were confused, though no less loving.

"I was too busy lookin' at the maid o'honour," he smiled a cheeky grin. "And thinkin' 'bout anoth'r weddin'… one that's gonna take place _next_ spring." While one hand still held hers, the other moved towards the based of her neck and guided their lips together. Despite the fact the clinic was cooler than outside, they both became aware at the break of perspiration that broke out on their bodies at the touch. He felt her soft lips open to receive his and he darted his tongue inside carefully, hoping it would not be too much for her. Pleasantly surprised, she touched her tongue to his and they became lost in their kiss for several moments, their lips dancing around each others as their tongues gave in to a slowly, but steadily increasing pace. Sully pulled away from the kiss, though he kept his lips close to her face, his breathing slightly faltered. "Thank you, Michaela."

"For what?" she breathed, her eyes still closed from the kiss as she felt the heat of his breath against her cheek. He hadn't kissed her quite like that before, and she was surprised at herself when she wished he hadn't pulled away.

"For sayin' yes," he moved to kiss the sides of her mouth, his eyes opening to gaze at her through a heavy-lidded stare.

A small smile claimed her lips at his touch. "Thank you, Sully."

Cocking his head slightly, he looked at her curiously. "For what?"

Her eyes finally opened and she moved her unclaimed hand to his waist. "For askin' me," she whispered, mimicking his vernacular and moved her lips back to his. The warmth of his lips felt like home, tasted like home, and she became less aware of the fact that Boston would be shocked at that moment and more aware of her increasing desire for him. His hand finally let go of hers as he reached to grasp her waist and pull her into him. A sound of content escaped his throat as he felt her hands wrap around him and her body somehow stepped closer.

When they finally pulled their lips apart, Sully noticed how hers had become slightly swollen and the pink hue that claimed her cheeks in embarrassment had deepened to a blush provoked not strictly by discomfiture. Moving one of his hands to cup her cheek, he guided her reluctant gaze to his. "Hey. Don't go bein' embarrassed." She smiled slightly, but at the fact that he knew her so well; her thoughts engrained with his own. His voice dropped to a concerned and loving whisper, despite their solitude. "Don't hide any part of yourself from me, okay? It's just me. Ain't got nothin' to be ashamed about."

"You are wrong," she said, pursing her lips out and not giving him a chance to interject his opinion. "You are not 'just you'. You're so much more than 'just anybody', Sully."

"You're right," he smiled, moving a small strand of hair out of her eyes and pulling it back to her knot. "I'm yours."

The impact of those words took Michaela by surprise, her eyes widening as she looked upon him with a hint of uncertainty woven into her love and devotion. "I… I hadn't thought of it like that…"

"But it's true." His hand guided one of hers to his heart and she felt the steady beating of it against her palm, as if it was one of the drums used in the Indian ceremonies. "My heart… it's yours, now, Michaela." He watched in curiosity as these words overtook her, each step of the comprehension apparent in her eyes though he suspected few would read it as he could.

He felt her pull gently on his hand and watched her curiously as she smiled. Guiding it to her own chest, he felt the lace of her fabric and the warmth of her chest against his hand. Not daring to breathe at her movement, he felt her own heartbeat against the back of his palm, a steady beat that increased slightly at the touch, in time with his own. "I am yours, Sully," she said softly, the love thick on each word as her eyes misted just enough to make them glitter all the more. "And my heart? It is yours. It has been for such a long time…"

Their hands still between them, he moved to caress her lips with his own, bidding his hunger to stay down and not aware of the fact that she was doing the same. He wanted all of her, everything of her; he wanted her to possess him. She wanted freedom, the freedom that she felt in his touch, and his kiss; the kiss that made her feel as if she wasn't her own person anymore.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted both of them, a gasp escaping from each of her lips. Michaela's hands immediately leapt up to straighten her hair, fearing it to be disarrayed, and Sully attempted to straighten his jacket. "Ya look fine," he whispered to her, amused that she looked torn as to whether or not to put her hat on before shaking it off and purposely stepping in front of him. She didn't notice that he took half a step to be closer to her until after she called out, "Come in!"

Wishing that she could have slapped him for his impish nature just then, Michaela's eyes opened as she saw Andrew enter the clinic. "Good afternoon, Mr. Strauss. How are you? We didn't see you at the wedding. You should have joined us…" Sully attempted not to be amused at her as she tried to fight her embarrassment. He noticed the signs – the flushed cheeks, the blatant ignoring of his presence despite the fact she was aware of his every breath, her words rushed just slightly as if to distract the listener from what they could see written upon her face.

Smiling softly, David looked at the couple stoically. Though he could only think of what they had been doing, he knew that it could not have been too inappropriate. After all, his Michaela? No. She was chaste, beautiful, and pure; she was more than likely embarrassed over the fact that she was alone with Sully. He would not let his imagination grant him insight to the truth. "I apologise for troubling you." The good natured smile was forced as he attempted not to gaze upon her too obviously. Luckily for him, Sully was too amused with Michaela to take proper note of anything out of the ordinary. "The sound of the celebrating crowd is what brought me out of my room. I was going to thank you for your hospitality, but I must go to Denver."

"Denver? For how long?" Sully looked at him curiously. "What about your book?"

"I was called away for some associates. I do want to do some more research for my book, but…" His voice trailed off. If he was going to go ahead with his plan, he needed to be away.

"There was a nest of blue heron that I wanted to show you," Sully tilted his chin towards the door, as if indicating the direction of where they would be going. "It'd be good for your book. If your business in Denver ain't long term, you could come back after it's done. I'd like to show it to ya."

Looking at the mountain man, though aware of the small smile that had crept over Michaela's lips at the suggestion, David considered. The calculating mind was not betrayed by his unmoving facial expression, attempting to formulate the timetables of his plan and work through everything. He had to see Michaela without her knowing. He had to have them think he was gone. But if he came back? That would help remedy the poorly construed plan he had been intent upon using. A far better opportunity.

His lips parted and he sighed as though he was in difficult thought. "I will try to be back in a week. But I'm holding you to your promise, Sully." He moved to shake Sully's hand before reaching for Michaela's and bringing it softly to his lips. He did not notice Sully's penetrating stare, nor did he realise what he had done until after the latch had caught the clinic door and he was making his way across the street towards the saloon once more.

Before Sully could comment or recover from the pang of jealousy and protective nature, he heard Michaela giggle softly. "Do you like embarrassing me?" she asked, her tone playful as she pressed her lips together. Shaken from the uneasy feeling, Sully smiled at her before turning towards her exam table. Lifting himself up, he opened his arms to her.

"C'mere," he smiled, placing his arms upon her shoulders as he widened his legs enough for her to step in a little between them. Catching her chin, he kissed her sweetly before pulling back and smiling at her. "I think it's kinda sweet when you're all… flustered." That cheeky grin claimed his lips once more and he watched as she struggled to pout or glare or have some other facial expression that the embarrassed smile. Running his fingers along her cheek, he sighed. "Michaela, I gotta go an' check my traps. If I leave tomorrow… I should be back in a couple of days. Five at the most, and that's only if we get some bad weather." He noticed the almost-flinch that she tried to hide. "Hey… I don't wanna leave…" It was true, too.

"But Sully…" she sighed, her hands catching both of his and holding them so that his forearms rested upon his thighs. "What about your megrim? What if it acts up while you're away? I won't be able to find you…"

He brought their hands up to his lips and gently kissed her fingers. "The megrim is gone, Michaela. There hasn't been any pain since the sweat lodge. I'll be careful, don't worry. And I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Do you promise?" she whispered, looking at their hands.

"Yeah. I promise." He moved her closer to him, dipping his head down.

Before he could pull her into a kiss, however, Brian burst into the room. "Ma! I brought leftovers!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Passion, Obsession**

**Chapter 2**

Staring into the fire, Sully idly moved his hand to pat Wolf's head. He felt as if he had been gone a year. Wolf didn't move; his master had not moved in long while, settled on his bedroll and watching the orange and yellow flicker in the darkness, casting a glow round the physical world as he knew it at that moment.

His thoughts were flickering like the flames between Cloud Dancing and Michaela. Ever since he had left, he had an unsettled feeling in the pit of the stomach; he attributed it to Cloud dancing being gone.

_She said yes_, he thought to himself, permitting his lips to tug slightly. He remembered back, a long time ago before Michaela, when he had kissed Abigail after they decided to marry. It was different; Michaela was different. So different than Abigail, than anyone. There was the pang of guilt, the fleeting moment that he occasionally felt when he permitted his mind to settle briefly on the fact that had Abigail not died, he would not have Michaela. The shame was heavy, burdening his heart, and that weight would remain though gradually fading away until the next time that he thought about it. Cloud Dancing told him that life was not simple. It was not always about happiness. _The bad has to happen, my friend. Only when we have seen the worse will we be able embrace the happiness, and appreciate the gifts from the spirits._

But now, Michaela was his. His. In the spring, they would be married and everything just seemed so surreal. How could she have said yes? _How could someone like her even think to love someone like me? I ain't fancy, refined… though I do have a better smile than that William Burke fella._ He recalled the look in her eyes when they kissed at the clinic after the wedding. That look that made him wonder if, despite the fact he knew she had never been with a man, she had ever felt this way even with David.

And then there was the vision Cloud Dancing had been given by the spirits. Michaela had said that it was a hawk carrying her off, and she had concluded that it had to be his megrim. But that illness? It wasn't enough to take him away. The pain left; if anything, the megrim had made him realise all that she meant to him; the megrim had given him the courage to ask her, or at the least to have the fear minimised. To open his heart up to the potential of not only love, but rejection. The pain brought on the proposal. The hawk… it wouldn't have symbolised that.

Shaking it off, Sully settled down on his roll and closed his eyes. While sleep encumbered his form, nightmares plagued his mind.

_  
Michaela. She was screaming, begging for someone to stop. Stop what? Why was her hair tossled? The last time he had seen her so frightened was with the Dog Soldiers, but her eyes – they looked as though all trust had been broken. She was crying for help and he tried to reach out to her, but she cowered away._

"_Don't touch me," she cried softly._

"_Michaela? What… what happened?"_

"_I couldn't… he… don't. I can't be touched. He said… why?" The words were articulated with hiccups and frantic sobs. Her hands looked strange, as if they had been submerged in warm water for far too long, but why did they look like that? He noticed her dress, the white camisole, the… she wasn't wearing her bloomers. The camisole was torn. And… blood._

"_Why? Micha-… what happened?" He tried once again to reach out to her, but she pushed him away before her body became consumed with her sobs._

"_I'm his now. Why didn't you save me?" Her arm was bleeding. It looked as though a bird had tried to attack her…_

Abruptly, Sully sat up, gasping for air. His hands were in front of him, frantically trying to reach for her before the glow of the fire brought him back to reality. Michaela. The hawk was still there. Michaela… she was in danger.

It had been a feeling of foreboding that he had been experiencing on his trip. And it had started not when Cloud Dancing left, but when he left Michaela. He had to get back to Colorado Springs; he had to get back to her. It was the earliest of morning, still dark, but Sully could see enough with the near-full moon. Immediately dosing the fire and packing up his camp, he grabbed his horse by the reigns and whistled for Wolf.

* * *

Michaela tried to recall the last time she had felt this exhausted, but she wouldn't let herself admit to when it had been. It brought back too many painful memories and even now, she still wasn't sure if what she remembered after her rescue from the Dog Soldiers had been brought on from exhaustion or had actually happened. Before that, her father had been away to New York while she had been left in Boston without the comfort of his voice. She had been miserable then – overworked, overstressed, underfed, and without her beloved mentor.

Sully had been gone for three days and despite her frantic schedule at the clinic, Michaela had managed to think of him often. His kisses the day of the wedding; how could she bring herself to be against them? Sure, propriety would consider her awkward or wanton for desiring those kisses, but every time she thought about them, the only conclusion that she could draw was could something that felt so right be so wrong unless it was in fact… right?

Running her hands over her face, she sighed. Four surgeries in forty-right hours, beginning the morning he had left. She hadn't caught up on the sleep that she had missed from being with Sully before that, either. And the surgeries? An appendectomy. A gall bladder. And then there had been the Harding brothers. The two boys had been cleaning their guns – loaded – and both had ended up shot. Apparently, the younger pulled his trigger on accident when the older sibling shot his off. One of them justified being under the knife for nearly three hours as she attempted to remove the bullet and tie up the various arteries. While his brother had waited, though albeit not patiently, it was nearly two in the morning before he went under to remove that bullet from the collarbone. The sleep she frantically tried to grasp at the clinic wasn't enough to keep her going and she hadn't eaten properly since the wedding, despite the food that Grace had brought. Brian had brought by a piece of cake earlier that day – the first time she had eaten in over twenty four hours – and the mass quantity of sugar on an empty stomach had only served in making her nauseated beyond all extent. Despite it, she had been grateful for the gesture from the little boy who had been the first to ever call her "Ma".

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Putting on a smile, she took a deep breath and looked towards it before calling out. "Yes?"

The bright blonde hair burst through the door. "Dr. Mike?" Colleen asked breathlessly. "Would it be alright if I stayed the night at Becky's? She's been wantin' me to go over our math and her ma invited me to stay over. Is that alright with you?"

Slightly leaning her head against her hand, Michaela thought. Her patients had been released this morning and Colleen had been such a help assisting the four in the recovery rooms while Michaela was managing her patients' appointments. Nodding her head, she smiled at Colleen. She could rest tonight with only Brian to concern herself over, hopefully. "Of course. I'll be coming in later tomorrow, but if you come in around two and help me with the clinic?" She did not mention the nausea to her adopted daughter, or the fatigue. She smiled as Colleen nodded enthusiastically. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun!"

"Thank you, Dr. Mike!" Colleen reached over and hugged her surrogate mother before smiling softly. "Sleep in, okay? And try and eat." Michaela nodded and as soon as she heard the door click, she stood up, only to be overcome with a wave of nausea that provoked her to sit down harshly. Swallowing, she gripped her stomach, recalling the last time she had been this foolish. She should have known better. Her stomach finally claimed her and she ran to the basin, retching into it until she felt her stomach calm slightly, though it was still jumping around painfully. Standing, she went to the water basin and brought water to her lips, attempting to dispel the bitter taste of bile from her mouth. How much sleep had she gotten in the last couple of weeks? It didn't help that she wasn't sleeping well; this she attributed to the fact that Sully was gone, but she felt as though something was watching her at the clinic. As if they were being monitored. Running the cold water across the back of her neck, Michaela stood up only to hear the knock on the door once more.

"Come in!" she called out, though the fatigue was starting to entangle itself into her voice. She heard someone enter and when they did not declare who they were, she turned and looked at them. "Mr. Strauss!" she exclaimed. "I was not expecting you back so soon…"

"I apologise," David began, closing the door behind him. "I wanted to let you know that my business ended earlier than I had anticipated and I am back. I will be staying at the saloon. Is Sully around so we might discuss our next… adventure?" He could not contain all of his excitement at seeing her once again.

The nights had been spent with the homestead and the clinic in sight, attempting to see every crevice and understand every inch of the surrounding terrain for it. Luckily, he had not been spotted, but he knew better than to keep tempting fate in such regards. Watching Michaela work through the windows had been a joy for him. At one point he had hurt his hand, which was now feebly wrapped in a cloth. He had thought it strange that he had not seen Sully around the homestead recently, and his curiosity could not be quenched. Had something happened? He had to know; hence the abrupt arrival "from Denver". In his enjoyment of seeing her, he noticed the pallid colour in her cheeks, the darker circles under her eyes. But she was still perfect, pristine, clean and free.

"Sully isn't around at the moment. He'll be home before the end of the week, as promised." The doctor in her took over as she looked at his hand in concern. "Your hand? What happened? Let me look at it." Immediately, she went and gently grasped his hand so to lead him towards the examination table. David, shocked at her touch, merely followed her lead and soon found himself on the examination table as she began to unwrap his bandage. He was even more shocked, and even more pleased, at the mention that Sully was gone.

"It was nothing…" he whispered, feeling the coolness of her hand against his skin as she inspected the wound.

"It's very clean," she commented, a twinge of surprise in her voice. "Very clean. I do not think that you will require any stitches." Nevertheless, she did begin to methodically clean it, only to hear the door demand her attention once more. "Come in!"

This time, it wasn't a patient. "Matthew! What is it?" She smiled at him, turning her attention away from David. He took this opportunity to inhale the sweet smell from her soaps and enjoy her hand still resting upon his injured one.

"Sorry to bother you. Nice to see ya, Mr. Strauss. Got back from Denver early?" David nodded in response, but made no motion to speak. "Dr. Mike, I'm sorry to interrupt. Mr. Bray asked Brian and me to help him out. He's gotta a big order he's got to do and wants to do an inventory tonight. He offered Brian and me the chance… help me bring down my credit at the store and give Brian some candy. He said he'd feed us and let us stay in the spare bedrooms since he wants to work late tonight and start early tomorrow. Is that alright with you?" There was an excitement in his voice and he was oblivious to the strangeness of David, though not to his adoptive mother's fatigue.

Michaela looked at him, closing her eyes at the wave of nausea as she thought. If Matthew and Brian were both gone, she would be allowed to sleep and catch up on some reading. "Yes. Colleen is going to be staying at Becky's house tonight." She let go of David's hand and subtly stabled herself against the exam table, to which Matthew took no notice. "I will have the house all to myself. Will you ask Robert E if he can watch the wagon? Also, I want you and Brian to head out and take care of your chores before you begin your work at Loren's."

Matthew grinned broadly, quite pleased with himself. "Already did our chores. And Flash is waitin' for ya outside. Ready to go when you are. Colleen said ya looked exhausted." He grinned when she smiled her pleasure at his initiative. "We'll be fine. But there is a storm comin' in. Looks rough. Ya sure you're gonna be alright out at the homestead by yourself?"

Nodding, Michaela smiled at him. "Yes. I'll be fine. I don't know what I'll do with my solitude, though. I do not want to stay at the clinic another night. I will see you tomorrow. Tell Brian to behave and not to break any candy jars."

"You got it," he grinned and shut the door behind him as he raced towards the mercantile, Michaela chuckling slightly to herself as she resumed the task of cleaning David's wound. His hands triggered a fleeting memory for her, but as she shook it off she made a small sound of discomfort from the pain in her stomach.

"Are you ill, Dr. Quinn?" She rose her head up to look at him as she wrapped his wound in a clean bandage.

"I'm afraid I'm exhausted… and a bit sick to my stomach. I'm going to be heading home shortly." She smiled to herself. "And I'll see about catching up on my sleep after a cup of ginger tea." Tying the white cloth, she looked up at him. "I'll tell Sully you're back early when he returns from checking his traps."

He watched her graceful, though slow movements, in a calmness that she only vaguely noted. Retrieving her coat from its peg, she pulled it on and reached for her medical bag and David slowly stood from the table and walked towards the door. He smiled softly at her as she unwrapped Flash's reigns from the post and mounted the horse without assistance before riding off in the direction of the near-black clouds.

Fatigue. Extreme fatigue. And she had looked rather tired, previously. And nauseated? Instinct told him what it was. Could she be? How could she be, with all of her Beacon Hill modesty and propriety? Never… she wasn't capable. When they had been together, there had been nothing but sweet and chaste kisses between them, never longer than society dictated. Even when they were alone, the most affectionate he could have hoped for was a prolonged embrace, but even then she would smile and pull away. Was it possible? Had he misread her so much? In his dreams, she had been in white. Her perfect, flawless skin, the rose of her lips. Even though her eyes were mismatched, they were clean and unadulterated. Her body was wholesome. She couldn't be contaminated, could she?

Could she be, dare he think it? With another man? The tainted mountain man? Such a fall from Boston… how could she let him?

It didn't seem right. David stumbled into his room at the saloon, somehow in his tormented reverie managing to regain his old habitat and collapsing onto the bed. No, he had to check. If it was true, it wouldn't have; _couldn't_ have been voluntary. She had to have been forced.

He would go to her. Soon. Tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep was a torment for her. She didn't even remember the ride back to the homestead, unsaddling Flash, or collapsing onto the chair. Still dressed in her clothing, she had meant to only rest for a moment before accidentally falling into a fitful sleep. Her stomach bothered her, even as she slept, giving her pain in her sleep as she tossed and turned. Why did it feel like someone was watching her? What was she running away from? The hand was reaching out to her, pulling at her hair, pulling at her clothing, and she couldn't run away, why couldn't she get away? Where was Sully? She needed him… where was he? Why wasn't he pulling her through? What was she running from? Why did her arm hurt? Who was looking at her?

Sitting upright, Michaela surveyed the homestead with her eyes, shaking slightly as she felt the nausea and disorientation overwhelming her. The doors, she hadn't latched the doors. Standing, she tried to rush outside to the outhouse as fast as she could before her stomach expelled itself of the water she had tried to keep down, along with whatever else it could find. The storm; she hadn't realised the hard drops of water that had hit her head during her desperate attempt to beat her stomach's purging, but now she heard the howling wind and the rain beating heavily against the wooden structure. Forcing herself to stand, she slowly made her way towards the side door and latched it as the wind seemed to pick up even more. The unsettled feeling hadn't left her. Why did it feel like someone was here?

"Hello?" she croaked out. "Brian? Colleen?" Had the children come back? No, she would have heard them. The loud sound echoed through the house, provoking her to jump. The front door. It was open. But… she had latched it? Making her way towards the main area, she noticed how her dressed was drenched, despite the brief time she had been outside. She would need to change. Her eyes closed while she sighed, moving with the intent of putting the kettle over the fireplace when she opened her eyes.

A face. It was staring at her from the window. Screaming, she rushed towards the door, which was flying as the wind would carry it. Struggling to get it closed as she attempted not to pass out from light-headedness, she felt resistance and then a cold clammy hand against her own.

"Michaela?" Sully called out, fighting against her closing the door and eventually winning. He looked at her and stared in confusion as she began to drop before him. Instinct rushed him to her side, picking her up into his arms and pulling her loose hair away from her face. "Michaela?" Wolf had come in and immediately went to the fire as Sully pushed the door shut with his back, his hold tightening as he tried to read her expression. Why was she struggling against him? Why had she screamed with such terror in her voice?

"Sully?" she sighed, closing her eyes and resting her face against his soaked clothing. "What… what are you doing here?" He moved her towards the chair and with great care that he had perhaps only ever exhibited towards Abigail, gently set her down with one hand holding her cheek and the other grasped firmly to her hands.

"I…" he hesitated, wondering what was wrong with her. "I came to check on you. The storm… it's floodin' out the roads pretty bad. When I got into town, I caught up with Matthew. He said… he said you weren't… feelin'…" He noticed her head falling slightly as her body began to shiver. "What's wrong?"

Not even bothering to put on a brave face, she let a few tears slip from her eyes as she sighed. "The surgeries… the clinic. I.. I can't remember the last time I ate something besides cake. I'm so tired." He noted the paleness of her skin, as well as the fact she seemed oblivious to what he had said about the roads.

"Here. I'll help ya back there and ya… get into dry clothes." His voice was soft and tender. "Don' worry. I'll take care of you." He noticed a partial smile attempt to grace her face as she gave in. Helping her up carefully, he guided her back towards Colleen's bed and went to search for bed clothes from her trunk. "Why did ya scream? I… I thought…"

Resting on the bed, she watched him as she moved through her belongings with respect, but with ease. She was surprised at how comfortable he was – or perhaps determined – and then she was surprised at the fact that she didn't mind. "I thought… I thought I was being watched. And then… there… there was a face in the window."

He had come back and handed her the bed clothes before dropping to his knees and removing her shoes without thinking. His face looked up at hers when she mentioned someone being in the window. "Wasn't me. Saw ya strugglin' when I was in the barn and came here. Didn't see nobody. I can go check?"

"No," she said softly as she felt her feet free from the constraint of her shoes. "I… I could have sworn… but it was probably the storm playing tricks on me?" He could hear the uncertainty in her voice and he nodded. "You're soaked, Sully."

"Been wet before," he replied with a smile, standing slowly as he looked at her. He should go check. Perhaps it was the fatigue that was obvious on every pore of her being; perhaps it was the storm. But what if it wasn't?

"Your clothes? The buckskins Colleen cleaned for you are by the door. You should change." He was about to object but he stopped when she looked at him. "I don't want you to get sick." It was her doctor voice and he knew he would lose the argument in the end.

As he leaned his head down to kiss her cheek, he gently caressed the other. "Alright. You get changed." He drew the separating sheet and moved towards his clothing, making a quick change after wiping down with a cloth. He tried not to be conscious of the fact that she was changing mere feet away from him; that he had just changed mere feet away from her. But the fear that lingered in her eyes made him focus and while he still heard her shuffling behind the curtain, he moved to put the kettle on the fire and looked around to find something.

"Sully?" She hesitantly called out, pulling the curtain back. He noticed that she held onto the wall, and he responded by moving towards her and pulling her against him. After a second passed, savouring the warmth of her body against his dry one, he kissed her temple and picked her up easily into his arms, settling her onto her bed.

He smiled at her, noticing how she didn't even try to fight him when brought a spare quilt from Brian's bed and draped it over her. He gave into the temptation to touch her, pulling her hair back from her face and curling it behind her ear. What was wrong with her? She would never tell him straight out. Grinning softly, he looked at her curiously. "Michaela… if a patient was sick like you… what would ya say was wrong?"

The blue eyes, those deep blue eyes, how could they read her so easily? "If," she began. "If it was any other person, I would ask them if there was the possibility that they were pregnant." The reaction from his face, the turning of his chin and looking at nothing before turning back to her and staring at her with slightly wider eyes than before, made it worth the jest.

"That was some sweat lodge." He said bluntly, running his fingers through his hair, grinning at her own reaction as he felt her hand swat at his arm.

"Just exhaustion. And lack of proper eating habits. I shouldn't have eaten that cake…" Her voice trailed off as he pressed a sweet kiss to the centre of her forehead.

Before she could question, she watched in a quiet contentment as he made her a cup of tea and cut a few slices from the loaf of bread. There was an unspoken conversation between them; the love that they felt apparent in their eyes as he came back to the bed and settled comfortably facing her before handing her the cup and indicating to the plate to take bread.

"Thank you," she said softly, hesitantly sipping the tea before resting back against the pillows that supported her against the wall.

"Have t' take care of my wife," was his response with a grin as he took a bit out of his bread.

"Future wife," she gently reminded him before flinching at a stomach cramp. His concern immediately swept his face and he moved to get a bucket and placed it next to the bed. She shook her head, indicating it was nothing, and he settled down once more though his eyes were glued to her face.

"Already my wife in my heart. Don't need a ceremony and a reverend to tell me what's there." Her untouched bread caught his attention and he tore a small piece before offering it to her lips. The smile temporarily interrupted any intended eating habits, but she conceded and accepted the food without complaint.

She thought about what she wanted to ask him, her eyes looking back to the window that she knew she had seen a face in. "Sully?" her voice was soft. "Will you stay? The last… the last few nights, I was… I thought…" She sighed.

"What is it?" The request was not unwelcome, though he was concerned with what had made her ask when it was obvious the children were not there. Then again, they had spent time alone in the woods before.

"I thought I was being watched. Even when at the clinic." Her mismatched eyes looked up at him in concern, watching as his brow came together in apprehension. He did not mention the hawk; there was no point in concerning her further.

"I'll stay. Take care of ya. Just call me Dr. Sully for the night." He wanted to keep the atmosphere light; she had to sleep and the sounds of the storm thrashing outside were oblivious to them for the time being.

A grin claimed her lips, watching as he brought another piece of bread to her mouth. "Dr. Sully?" She asked before chewing thoughtfully and sipping her tea once more. "I hope you come with the highest credentials."

"Yup. Trained by the best doctor in the territory. Prettiest one, too." He grinned at her, moving closer as he watched her pull the covers closer to her body.

"Oh? Do you fancy this doctor?"

"Yup."

"I suspect she thinks you are quite handsome." Michaela became more and more aware of the fact she couldn't get warm and the next time she grasped her cup was more for the sake of warming her belly than replenishing her fluids.

"Don't know 'bout handsome. But I know I love her more than anythin'." Setting the plate on the other side of her on the bed, he moved to pull her into his arms. Grateful that she did not resist, he pulled her more closely than he had originally anticipated and leaned his head back so he could look at her face.

"I happen to know this female doctor, Dr. Sully," she said softly; content to have his warmth against her. Boston manners and the like were still present in her mind, but she recalled how free being with him felt. Not to forget how warm he made her feel. "And I know that she loves you more than she has ever loved anyone in her life."

A soft grin claimed his lips and he brought another bit of bread to her lips without breaking his gaze. "Good."

Consenting, she chewed on the bread and swallowed, though politely shook her head at there being anymore. "Sully? I…" her eyes moved to stare at the window. Without saying a word, he knew what she was thinking.

"If ya want, Michaela… I'll stay in the barn, if it makes ya feel safe. I'll do anythin' to make ya feel safe," he reassured her, letting his hand move to carefully caress her cheek.

But he wouldn't hear her over the winds and rain of the storm, and she shook her head. "Will you… stay in here?" She could hear her mother's voice echoing her disappointment and disapproval, and she started to turn away but stopped herself, her smile hesitant but her eyes betraying her emotions to him. He knew exactly what she meant and nodded slowly.

Slowly and deliberately, Michaela moved under the covers so that something besides Brian's quilt embraced her, Sully helping her. Eventually, she was curled up, resting against his chest while he remained propped up against the wall, his arms securely wrapped around her, softly caressing her shoulder and arm with his hands. She finally felt warm; warm, safe, free. "Hold me, Sully…" she whispered, exhaustion enveloping her without further coercion.

"You're safe with me, Michaela. Go to sleep. I'll protect ya." She had already fallen asleep. But she was safe. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her; take her away from him. _She's the only woman I would consider an angel. And she said yes._ Moments later, he gave into his own exhaustion, falling asleep with the most precious gift that he had been given resting in his arms.

* * *

He was oblivious to the rain that hit his face with such force. He did not notice the wind that brought the chill and howls into the night. From his hiding place among the branches, David simply watched, unconscious to the world outside of the homestead. 

His sight had been limited, though he took upon himself to speculate as to what was happening in the areas he couldn't watch.

And what he had seen had been enough.

He watched as he carried her to the bed. He watched as he brought her bread and tea, feeding her and caressing her flawless skin. With every breath that Sully took so close to Michaela, David's heart beat a bit faster and his anger festered into a stronger hatred for the man. Loathing at the obvious pleasure he took in taking care of her, he watched as they smiled, curled up in the bed.

How many times before had they shared that bed? Had the mountain man corrupted his beloved and had his way with her elsewhere? Conceived images of them giving into their physical desires in the barn, in the woods, in the clinic, at the very spot that he stood now overwhelmed him. Not his Michaela; she never looked upon him when they were engaged in such a way, how could she give herself to that man? Unmarried?

She would have waited for him. There had to be an explanation, something to make him understand how this could possibly be. Michaela would never go to a man in such a way. There had to be another explanation for this.

Their sudden movement brought him back to his surveillance of the two. He watched as Sully assisted helping Michaela under the covers, to which he followed. David saw how Sully wasn't laying down all of the way, but he was still laying down in the same bed, holding her.

_No, there is something else. I am missing something._ Michaela… there had to be another reason. Having seen enough, David turned away from the homestead and began his trek blindly back to the town. He knew the roads would be bad, but he was in no rush to go back to the filth and stink of the saloon.

_She **is** pregnant. With another man's child._

How could she be? She never would give up her Boston upbringing to bear the child of an unemployed mountain man in the middle of nowhere.

_What if she didn't have a choice?_

The prospect shot his attention up. What if… Michaela had befriended Sully? What if he wanted more but she didn't say no because she was afraid of losing his friendship? The man was like a protective mutt that watched over its bitch when it was in heat. Michaela didn't – couldn't – love Sully. The child wasn't wanted. Perhaps it had not been rape in the strictest sense of the word; but she had been unwilling, uncaring. Perhaps even unknowing. Her naivety to such things – perhaps she had not realised what he was doing until it was too late and she felt as if she owed him.

Yes, that was it. She was in a situation she could not control. But he could. He could control it for her. He could rid her of the unwanted child. He would make her clean again, and then she would make him clean once more. They would help each other through this. He would save her.

Turning away from his original direction, he headed towards the hideout he had used for the last few days. It was a while off, and the rain made it difficult to navigate through, but he was in no rush. He had waited years for this and he would certainly be able to wait a few more hours.

A few hours before dawn, when the rain was nothing more than subtle tears from the sky, he found his way. The cave was deep, near the top of the stone hill, but only accessible from the creek side. Inside was a battered old bathtub, various bottles of medicine and sterilising liquids that looked as though they belonged in the clinic. The floor was covered with old blankets. The walls had even been scrubbed. It was oddly sterile for being in the middle of nature.

"I will cleanse you, Michaela," he breathed. "So you can take away my pain."

* * *

Michaela had been anticipating a rather quiet morning, believing that she would be able to give the clinic a much needed cleaning. There were no appointments and she assured Sully that she would be fine. She had been eating better and was not nearly as exhausted as she had been. For the last half an hour, she had scrubbed the floor, her mind occasionally drifting back to a few nights ago when she and Sully had spent the night together. A beaming smile crept over her features. 

_Mumbling nothing, Michaela stirred in the bed, only vaguely aware of the arms that were wrapped snugly around her form. As she gradually came into consciousness, she tried to remember. Who was in her bed? Taking a deep breath, she caught his scent. Sully. The memories of the night did not weigh heavily on her mind. In Boston, she would have been shocked. No. If it had been any other man, she would have been shocked. Instead, she turned over so she was once again facing him, blissfully happy and relaxed, though she immediately closed her eyes._

_He wasn't certain if she had woken or not, so he kept his eyes closed tightly. He had only woken moments before, her back spooned against his chest with her hands entangled with the sleeves of his shirt, as content as could be. He inhaled the sweet smell of her soaps, her mere presence. When she began to shift and turned into him, he grunted and pulled her against him even tighter._

_As he tightened his hold on her, she smiled and snuggled a bit closer to him. Curiosity eventually got the better of her and she opened her eyes. His face was right there, his eyes closed. His kissable lips were slightly parted, his lashes together, his strong jaw line looking so handsome. A strand of hair had fallen in front of his eye and she carefully moved it away. That was when she saw the corners of his lips curl slightly._

"_Sully!" she exclaimed in a whisper, watching his eyes open._

"_Mornin'." He reached down and kissed her head sweetly before pulling back to admire her once again. The soft sound of a gentle rain could be heard upon the roof. _

"_What time is it?"_

"_I reckon about five or so… why, wanna get up?" He moved a strand of her hair out of her eyes with an impish smile. He was laying on top of her covers with Brian's quilt over him.._

_She thought for a moment, considering her options. "No…" She leaned forward to kiss his lips gently. When he began to move, she wondered if he wasn't serious about getting up. "Sully?" she questioned, but saw that he brought the last of the bread from the plate forgotten the night before. _

"_Eat this first." She complied._

"_Sully?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_Can… would…" she stumbled over her words and she felt the blush creep over her cheeks. When he opened one eye to look at her, he raised his brow as well. _

"_Yeah?" his voice was soft and tender. _

"_Let's pretend we're already married for a little while longer," she whispered; she wondered if he had even heard her. _

_But he had. And with a loving smile, he snuggled their bodies down under the covers further. He smiled when he heard her light giggle as he brought the covers over their heads and pulled her against his chest once more._

"_Told ya. Already my wife," he murmured soon after, sleep claiming them once more._

It had been entirely improper, but Michaela found that she had never slept better. She wanted to wake up in his arms every morning. That aside, she simply felt safe in his arms. She belonged there, it was that simple. His shoulder was so comfortable and the steady beating of his heart served as a rhythm to fall asleep to. She trusted him completely, and trusted herself with him. She knew that no matter what she said to him, he wouldn't hold it against her. And slowly, she had been giving into the more physical aspects of their lives. He never pressed her and he was so eager to show his love for her; his fear of overwhelming her was endearing. It made her love him even more.

It had been agreed upon shortly after Sully had returned that he and Strauss would meet on this morning to head out. Strauss had mentioned that he suspected the trip could last overnight as he wanted to ensure that he had a chance to properly detail everything, and it had taken some persuasion to get Sully to agree to take him a while out of town. Something had made the other man anxious and while Strauss had been curious, he had not asked.

It was nine o'clock. They were supposed to meet at eight thirty about three miles out of town, near a specific point that David had selected. He told Sully that he was sure he knew where he was going, but not to be surprised if he was late. It was merely a means of covering his tracks.

After patiently taking a deep breath, David began to ride his horse quickly into town, pulling up in front of the clinic. He tied his horse next to Michaela's and raced into the clinic.

"Dr. Quinn!" he exclaimed. Her head shot up at the sound, immediately standing from the floor.

"Mr. Strauss! I thought you were with Sully? What… has something happened?" Her heart started to beat violently as the fear came over the multicoloured eyes. David pointedly ignored the obvious care that she felt for him.

"Don't worry. I believe he is fine. He fell down a steep bank and his foot is caught between two boulders in the creek. He is stuck and I believe one of his legs is broken." Despite his detail, she had already reached for her hat and bag by the time he said "fell".

"Take me to him," she breathed, already heading out the door. David nodded, but before he headed out of the clinic, he placed a letter on the examination table and pulled the door shut. Michaela had already mounted Flash and had untied his own horse. He mounted the animal and began to lead her out East of town.

Their pace was quick, though Michaela wasn't pushing simply because David would not push his horse faster.

"I apologise," he began, noticing her irritation and desire to quicken their pace. "I have to remember where I came from, otherwise we will be lost."

"Of course." If his leg was broken, it shouldn't be too bad. Sully would be alright and it would be better to take their time then get lost and potentially take longer.

For a few minutes, they rode in silence before he broke it. "Tell me, Dr. Quinn. You are from Boston. Were you married over there? Before you came out West?"

"No. I… I was engaged once." She didn't pay much attention to the question.

"Why was it broken?"

"Ah, it wasn't. He died in the war a few years back."

"Died?" he pretended to be in surprised.

"Yes."

Their conversation did not continue for some time as he guided her towards the creek he had been to many times before. Dismounting his horse, she followed suit and grabbed her bag. He was playing around one of his saddle bags.

"I thought you said Sully fell down a bank? There isn't a steep bank around here."

"Are you certain he died?" His voice was gruff and the white cloth in his hand was covered when he turned to her.

"Excuse me?" she looked upon him confused.

"Your fiancé. Are you certain he was dead?"

The confusion deepened as she looked upon him. "That… that was what I was told?" Why was she stumbling over her words?

"You did not remain faithful to your vow to him."

"What are you talking about?" Her heart gripped in a fear as he looked upon her. No. It couldn't be. She couldn't believe it. She knew his eye, she knew his hand, she knew his stature. How could it be him? What happened to him? Why was he here now? He was dead; she should have known. "Sully," she whispered.

"You said forever." His hand reached out, placing the chloroformed cloth over her mouth as she struggled. But it was futile. Shortly thereafter, she ceased her resistance and fell limp in his arms. Tossing her over his shoulder, he stepped into the creek, grabbing her medical bag as an afterthought, and began to walk down the distance. The chloroformed rag caught on a branch, to which David was oblivious. After sometime, they came to the base of stone hill and he climbed up into the opening of the cave, Michaela still oblivious to all around her.


	4. Chapter 4

Sully wasn't sure if he should be irritated or concerned. After waiting for about an hour, and then searching around for Andrew Strauss around the West of time, he had given up. Had he forgotten or had he gotten lost? Uncertain of which it was, Sully decided he would try for town. Maybe something came up and he couldn't make it. Maybe he was sick; after all, he had been pale last time he saw him.

But it wouldn't be a total loss. He would go and sneak Michaela away from the clinic for the day. They needed to discuss the new house; though the exterior had already been sketched. The land was already purchased; it had been his for a while, but he hadn't really had a reason to keep it around. But then this beautiful lady doctor fell into the mud in front of him and since then, he hadn't gotten around to getting rid of it. He was thankful for that instinct.

Smiling, Sully realised that kidnapping her for the day was unrealistic. But maybe at least for lunch? Continue what had happened after the wedding in her clinic? She was so beautiful and she looked upon their future with such hope. Such determination.

Turning into town, Sully stopped his horse in front of the clinic, surprised to see that Flash wasn't outside. Shrugging, he knocked at the door. No answer. He pulled the bell. Again, no answer. Checking the door, he walked in and saw no Michaela.

"Michaela?" he called out. There was a note on the examination table with his name on it. Looking around, he picked it up and examined the strange red ink that it had been with. He did not recognise the handwriting, though there was something familiar about the paper.

_Sully,_

_I am afraid I have not been honest with you. My name is not Andrew Strauss. That is one of my aliases. My name is in fact Dr. David Lewis. I apologise for this deception. I am taking Michaela back to Boston, where she belongs, to start over. This is what she wants. It will be easy to forget about you, once you are no longer in her life._

_David_

Sully tried to reread the letter. He tried over and over again, staring at the words at the page but he could only seem to comprehend a few of them. _David Lewis_. Michaela's fiancée. He was dead! He died in the war. How long had she known? Why had she let them continue their engagement if she knew he was alive? Why had… _He's taking Michaela back to Boston… where she belongs._ _She doesn't belong in Boston! She… she loves me. Colorado Springs… this is her home. Not Boston. _

His body physically swayed as he gripped his chest, the hand not holding the letter gripping the table. _She left me,_ his brain screamed. Tears began to form in his eyes as his heart physically felt pain. But this was worse; could this be worse than losing Abigail and Hannah? _Ya know why. The night ya held her during the storm. It was the best night of your life. And ya thought that maybe, just maybe, it could always be like this. Maybe you would have been lucky enough…_

The travesty of thoughts that ran through his mind were interrupted by Matthew, who came bounding into the clinic. "Sully? I heard ya were hurt… where's Dr. Mike…" He stopped and noticed the letter in his hand and the obvious absence of the doctor in the clinic. "What happened?"

How had lips become so parched all of the sudden? Unable to respond, Sully merely handed Matthew the letter.

"What? No… this…" Matthew looked at Sully with a blatant confusion. "This don't make no sense. Mr. Strauss came to the clinic… he told Dr. Mike ya were hurt. She left to find ya!" His voice was panicked as he looked around.

"I wasn't hurt! Strauss…" he stopped and corrected himself. "_David_ never showed up!"

"Dr. Mike don't know he's David!" Their voices were rising, though it was obviously not in anger at one another; despite that fact, Matthew was irritated with Sully. "She called him Andrew. She thought ya fell down a bank and was stuck."

"It could have been a lie! They could have done it for show!" The tears were in his eyes, and his hand flailed to the side.

"No one saw them but me!" He countered, almost frightened by the tears in Sully's eyes.

"What if…" Sully gulped and looked at Matthew, his brow furrowed. "What if she did know? She don't want me no more…" Even as he said it, he couldn't believe the words matriculating from his mouth.

Matthew stepped forward, placing both hands on Sully's shoulders and staring at him with a slight apprehension in his eyes. "Would Dr. Mike really leave without sayin' good bye to us? She _dragged _us to Boston, remember? Colleen and Brian? Leavin' without makin' arrangements for us t'follow? Sully… how are they leavin'? Stage ain't comin' today."

Forced to face reality, Sully stared at him in shock. Michaela wouldn't leave; not like this. He had to trust that much. Matthew was right. She wouldn't leave the children. She wouldn't just run off.

"How long ago did they leave?"

"Two… and half, three hours ago?"

"Which way were they headed?" Thankfully, his horse was already packed up with water and a few other things he might need.

"East outta town."

Turning to look around the clinic once more, his attention returned to Matthew. The intense blue gaze looked at him. "Somethin' ain't right. I'm goin' after your Ma. Watch the kids. Robert E and Grace'll help. Don't tell them who Andrew… David… whoever. Don't tell them who he really is. Tell him…" his brain tried to think of a plausible story. "Tell folks, but only if they ask, that he thinks Michaela is… his dead fiancé. And he's takin' her… I don't know. Think of somethin'."

Before Matthew could object, Sully was on his horse and turning away from the clinic with Wolf running behind him.

* * *

Her dreams were vicious, nothing more than enactments of her incarceration by the Dog Soldiers so many months ago. She remembered the feeling of One Eye's hands upon her body. But it was a different ending – Sully had not come out to save her. Why hadn't he come? Why?

Regaining consciousness slowly, she looked around with confusion. What had happened? She tried to move as her eyes began to adjust to the light but she couldn't. Her hands were tied behind her back, the rope impossibly tight and beginning to chafe her wrists. She struggled slightly, discovering her ankles to be bound tightly as well.

"Hello?" she croaked, before taking in her surroundings. She was in a cave that looked… as though it had been cleaned? She must be hallucinating. On one of the boulders was a white cloth that had various medicinal bottles neatly arranged. In the corner was a rusted old tub. There was a pumice stone near it, lye soap as well. She shivered at the sound of water, coming to the conclusion she must be near water.

Looking down, she was even more confused. Her stockings and shoes had been removed, along with all of her clothing save her white bloomers and camisole. Stiff from her position, she craned her neck.

"Sully?" she cried out in hope before giving into an anxious scream. "SULLY!"

Turning her attention at the movement, her heart sank. "Mr. Strauss?"

Staring at her wakened form, David looked at her with dead eyes. "We went over this, I had thought. Don't you recognise me, Michaela?"

The voice, no. The hair… no. It couldn't be, she couldn't recognise him. "No," she whispered, shaking her head, his eye staring at her and taking away the doubt she so desperately wanted to cling to. "No… it… it can't be." Her gaze turned to the corner before looked upon him once more. "David?"

"Yes." He sat down on a low boulder, looking at her curiously. "I doubted if you would even remember me… I knew you wouldn't forget about me."

"Of… of course I would remember you. What… what happened? How can this be? You were dead."

"No. Andersonville. Then I had to learn how to walk, speak, and do everything once more." His voice was short and bitter; had he always been so bitter?

She gulped and tried to focus her mind. "Why… why did you not come for me?"

"Spare me, Michaela." He spat out, staring at her with vehemence in his remaining eye. "I couldn't come out of the woodwork. Not like that. Do you have any idea the pain I had to endure?" His voice gradually increased with hatred and volume. "The filth that I had to live, eat and breathe? I wanted to be clean for you! And…"

Her breathing increased as she stared at him. There was no denying the fact that he was David Lewis, but he could not be the same man that she had once loved and been engaged to. Had she misread him so wrong? Her gradually lucid mind was attempting to become clearer and she tried to pull her wrists out of the ropes. "David, what happened to you?"

"You!" he screamed at her, jumping towards her as a hand rested on either side of her shoulders upon the stone. "You were supposed to remain clean for me! Clean! I had to find my redemption… my heart… I would have healed with you. And now… now I have to clean you first."

"Clean me?" she gave a hushed gasp. "David, I'm sorry for what happened to you… but… I didn't know." There were tears creeping into her eyes.

"You went to another man's bed."

"David, please understand-" What was he talking about?

"Stop talking!" He screamed, throwing his hand across her face, the force provoking her head to hit the stone wall. "You… you are not clean. But… but I'll clean you, Michaela. I'll take it away."

She was only vaguely aware of the blood trickling down her face from the cut upon her cheek and she felt the swelling already beginning upon her face. "Take… what?" Why did she have to open her mouth?

His hand pressed against her lower abdomen until she grunted in pain. "I know, Michaela. I know you're carrying his bastard child." He reached for a cup that smelled strangely and forced her mouth open. "But once I get rid of it, we'll be together. I'll forgive you, Michaela."

She felt the bitter taste of herbs in her mouth and she tried to spit it out, but he tightened his hold on her mouth until the tears streamed viciously down her cheeks and she gave in. When he finally released her mouth, she gagged and turned her head to the side.

But she wasn't pregnant. How could he think she was? The clinic… when he had visited her? But… but if he thought she was pregnant, perhaps it would grant her some time.

"Sully?" she whispered.

"No," his voice was surprisingly calm, but she knew he was controlling it. He was shaking so badly from the control. "You'll forget about him. We'll return to Boston once… once we are both clean."

Her movements became less controlled as her head fell back. "What did you give me?" She had to know.

"Black cohosh, blue cohosh, blessed thistle, ginseng, sarsaparilla, liquorice, and yarrow." She recognised the names – all were abortive aids. What was the worst that could happen to her? Why couldn't she continue to focus?

"Oh," and he added as an after fact. "And valerian root." He brought out a needle and bottle, filling it slightly and injecting it into her arm.

"Please," she pleaded. "David… don't do this."

"Why didn't you wait?"

"How could I wait on a ghost?" she whispered, feeling the effects of the injection. "When father died… I… started over. And…Sully saved me."

"You owe him nothing. Not anymore."

"We're engaged."

"No. Not anymore. Once again, we are."

But she was sedated.

* * *

Matthew walked into the saloon, searching for Hank.

"Hank?" He saw the bartender leaning against the bar, a small glass of something resting near his hand.

"Finally come to let loose yer extra tension there, Matthew?" he drawled out, a cheeky grin creeping over his face as Jake and Loren turned to look.

"I ain't here to play, Hank. I need to know which room was belonged to Strauss." He stepped towards the bar and looked at them.

Regarding the young man carefully, Hank narrowed his eyes.

"Now, Matthew, we can't be lettin' ya into his room," Jake started, but there was something that provoked a curiosity in the mayor. "Why ya wantin' in?"

Taking a deep breath, Matthew hoped that this would be acceptable. "Strauss… he ain't right in the head. War made him crazy. He… he thinks Dr. Mike is his fiancé from before the war." He swallowed. "He kidnapped her."

Hank stepped back, rising to his full height. "Took her? We need to get a posse together!"

"No!" Matthew interrupted them, raising his hand and looking at the men. "There… there was a note. Said if he saw a posse, he'd kill her. Sully went after her. She didn't know what he was doin'. We have to wait for Sully." They couldn't discover who David really was. He was afraid if they did, there would be ramifications for Dr. Mike. Accusing her of running off; the rumours alone would hurt Brian and Colleen.

Loren's face was aghast at this information and he looked at Hank. "Why didn't ya tell us he was crazy in the head?"

"Well, how was I suppose' ta know, Loren? Third door on the left. Whatcha think ya gonna find?" But Matthew had taken off already, the three men following close behind.

When he opened the door, Hank looked around. "This room ain't ever been this clean 'fore. What'd he do?" His brow furrowed and he looked around. It was bare from personal items and it had been meticulously clean. Sighing in frustration, Matthew left the room.

"Matthew?" Loren called out after him, catching up with him before he walked out of the saloon. "Do ya… do ya think he'll find her?"

"He's found her before, Loren. Gotta trust him."

Sully felt panic as he saw the two horses in the distance. It has seemed so easy; David Lewis was easy to trace. Matthew had said Michaela was in a panic but David certainly did not move quickly enough to justify panic. But then he saw Flash and raced his horse towards the two horses. There was no sign of them. He looked down at the ground.

There was where Michaela had dismounted; there was where David had done the same. He had come towards her. There was a sign of movement – or swaying and dancing – but he tried not to think about it.

_I love her. But what if she does want him back? Will I chase after her? I went to Boston… but… I want her to do what makes her happy._ No, he had to focus. Focus! Taking a deep breath, he had a strange feeling of anxiety. When was the last time he felt it? It was something he had experienced before… _Dog soldiers. When she had been taken from me by the Dog Soldiers. I felt her. She wanted me; she needed me._

Perhaps he was imagining, hopeful wishes that she still wanted him as much as he desperately wanted her. But he couldn't deny it.

"Michaela…" he whispered into the air, closing his eyes as he felt the wind caress his cheek.

Taking a deep breath, he followed the tracks into the river. The animals were still packed, though he did note the absence of Michaela's medical bag. He went into the river and looked downstream and upstream. "Where are you, Michaela?" He started towards one way, but stopped and started towards the other way. There weren't any tracks on the other side of the river thus far. So they hadn't done a direct cross.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment, sighing when Wolf whined. He looked up at saw something white in the distance. Rushing towards it, he stared at the cloth. It was similar to one of Michaela's many cloths that she had in the clinic. Bringing it to his nose, turned away at the scent. Chloroform.

"Michaela," he whispered in a practical whimper, looking around as though a lost little boy. "Come on, boy." He went back to his horse and grabbed his pack before following the stream.


	5. Chapter 5

_Clean. She must be cleaned._ His hands moved the stone over her arms until the skin became red, and in many places began to bleed. She had to become clean. Once he did away with the mountain man's touch, he would bathe her in the hot water.

_Salt purifies the earth. It makes it sacred._ It was Judaic tradition; Christian tradition. Even the ancients used it.

It had been twenty four hours since he had taken her. No one had come for them, or if they did they were not sufficient at finding them. Sully did not care for Michaela. He had merely wanted someone to warm his bed at night. David wondered the lies that she had been told. Did he promise her love? A forever? Did he give her hope for some future? What future could he give her? Buckskin corsets and eagle feather hats?

No, she wanted this. She wanted to be with him. He had seen it in her eyes, the desire to be free from the bounds of the mountain man's hold against her. The pregnancy had meant to trap her. She did not want the child. No, he would be her saviour and she would forget.

She wanted to forget, he knew it.

Moving her from arms, he turned his attention to her legs. Still, she had not passed the child. He would give it a couple more days, and if she did not miscarry, he would perform the procedure. It was a simple one, though he had not performed it but once in his life. But she would want it in the end, she just didn't know it.

Her pure, porcelain skin. The red would go away, it would. She would heal and once the bastard child was gone, once the bleeding had stopped, he would bathe her and make her pure; he could be clean.

Michaela woke up to a pain she had never experienced. Her joints were stiff from being forced to remain in the same position for so long, her neck hurt from leaning against her shoulder and the stone wall. But that wasn't the pain that had woken her.

There was the sound of scrapping, followed by a burning pain. That bought her attention back.

He was cleaning her. The pumice stone that had been near the copper tub was being dragged across her flesh. Her arms were burning from the scraped skin, each pull of the harsh material forcing her further into the harsher reality that was her world as he now began work on her legs.

"David," she cried out, trying to pull her legs away from him to no avail. "David, stop it!"

"I have to get rid of his touch," he murmured. "I have to clean you." It was as though he was in prayer.

"Please, stop," she pleaded, trying to struggle against him, finding some strength to struggle against him. "Please, David. We'll… get you help. We'll help you. Just please… stop."

Breaking his trance, he tossed the stone aside and looked up at her, but he could not see her for what she was. He did not see the pain in her multicoloured eyes, the tears streaming from her cheeks as the saline liquid stung the unattended wound on her cheek. He did not see her mouth silently, softly pleading for mercy; the slight shake of her neck as if in denial that this was happening to her.

Instead, he saw her for what she was when they were still together. While she had still the determination, the protective and healing nature, he saw innocence. He deluded himself into thinking that he had seen the desire that she felt towards Sully once towards him. But the desire wasn't there. How she looked upon him – appalled, disgusted, violated by the breaking of the truth they had once felt – was misinterpreted by his demented mind.

"You will help me. You will heal me. You'll take it all away." His hands reached for the concoction of herbs and once again forced her mouth open. She did not even try to resist. Nor did she when he pressed the injection into her once more.

"I don't want to heal you, David. I don't want anything to do with you. Sully… Sully will save me." There was the defiant nature that had given her the means to be independent in their society. He saw the fire; he couldn't have the fire, that strange look that he had never seen directed at him.

"Why did you deny me?" he hissed, pressing his hand against her neck.

"What?" the panic had returned. "David, what are you talking about?"

"When I left for war," his hand slowly closed against her throat. "You did not let me into your bed the last night. I begged. I promised I would return. I kept my promise. You said that once we were married, it would be appropriate. So now, I have returned. And he claimed what should have been mine. MINE!" The spittle from his mouth hit her cheek as she tried to gasp for air. She tried to bring her knees up to kick him, but the lack of food and water since her capture made her movements encumbered and frightful. "You owe me, Michaela. You owe me awe. Reverence! You will not rape me of my atonement."

The cold gaze of his blood, rushing adrenaline, forced control and desire. Not desire. Power. Always about power. He watched her from afar for a long enough and the fact that he hadn't been allowed to touch her, caress the skin of her lines with his callused hands, that were of even more purity, had driven him further into insanity. It was never a question that he loved her – he simply coveted her, though he believed it was pure. A truth of those aware of the human psyche is that we covet what we see and to see her happiness be embraced by those around her with him not the cause was a provocation of insanity, a need for power. The practical succubus in his eyes was left with nothing and now she had found happiness without him. He could not face this reality.

"You'll never have me, David," she whispered her vow as her body falling limp once more in response to the injected sedative.

* * *

Brian struggled to not trip over the ropes that were dragging by his feet as went to the barn. "Matthew?" he asked once he had entered. Colleen was assisting Matthew in cleaning out the stalls, Flash stamping her foot in irritated. Sully had stopped by and dropped off the horse yesterday, shaking his head in frustration.

"Yeah, little brother?" he asked, grunted as he heaved the hay into the stall and stopped his movements briefly to listen to his youngest sibling.

"When's Ma comin' back?" The voice had such innocence, his bright eyes looking up with fear behind them.

Shifting uncomfortably, Matthew looked to Colleen for guidance, but she all she could respond with was, "Brian, Sully's gonna find Dr. Mike."

"Yeah, Brian," Matthew continued. "If anyone can find her, Sully can."

"I know that he found her when the Dog soldiers took her," Brian sighed, looking down at his boots. "But he… he ain't a Dog Soldier. And last night… you and Colleen were talkin'. Ya said it was her dead fiancé."

Colleen stopped moving completely and stared at her brother. Both she and Matthew had thought that Brian had been asleep when they were discussing in hushed tones about David.

"Yeah, Brian," Matthew admitted, looking ashamed at both the fact that they had lied to Brian and that his little brother had discovered their lie in such a manner. "David took her."

The confusion was blatant on the young child's expression, his face cringing. "What is it, Brian?" Colleen asked, moving to Brian and kneeling before him. "What's wrong?"

"What if Ma wanted to go with him? What if she don't want us no more?" The tears were brimming from his eyes.

"Brian!" Colleen exclaimed. "I… She wants us! She wouldn't forget 'bout us!"

"Does this mean Sully ain't gonna be our pa no more?"

Matthew looked at Colleen before kneeling next to her and pulling his brother into his arms. "Sully… she… of course he will be. He'll bring her home. And everythin'll be okay."

* * *

Frustration was beginning to cloud his judgement. Tracking the Dog Soldiers had been easier than this. There were more horses, there were camp sites; despite the fact that they had covered their tracks. He understood their movements better than this seeming ghost.

But this? It had been as though they had simply vanished into thin air. He had gone both upstream and downstream three miles each way to no avail. Half of his afternoon had followed an empty lead, having ended up tracking Michael Johnson's horse to his homestead. Giving up, he had returned to the creek with the determination to follow it further than the three miles. He could smell the storm coming, the clouds threatening the burst behind him.

He tried to ignore the pressure; the storm would wash away any remaining signs of their leaving from the creek. Having returned to town once for supplies, he had promised Brian and Colleen that he would find her. That he would bring her back, unharmed. But he was starting to wonder if he had overestimated his abilities. But he had to find her. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind on nothing.

"Michaela," he whispered. He tried to focus. But… but he couldn't hear her voice. He tried to listen, to hear her calling for him as he had when the Dog Soldiers had taken her; but there was nothing to grasp, not even the wisp of her voice.

"Michaela, please. I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' t'find ya. Please… anyone…" he was begging the great spirits, the grandfathers, the gods; anyone to help him.

He felt pain. She was alive; she was in pain. He hadn't found her in time to stop her hurting, but he had to stop the further torture. Turn slightly, he felt the pain weaken. His brow furrowed and he turned back. The pain was stronger. The rain broke free from the clouds and he felt as if they were Michaela's tears. Despite the fatigue, he took a deep breath and found a renewed energy as the rain set the cadence for his pursuit.

* * *

Whenever she had been coherent, she was begging for Sully. David had tried to focus her mind on him, to remind him that it wasn't Sully who loved her, but him. Thankfully, she had finally passed the abomination from her womb, though he had not given her the option of a change of clothes; there was something invigorating at seeing the blood-stained whiteness of her pantaloons. It was a beautiful cruelty.

She was thankful that he hadn't noticed her stirring. The pain in her limbs had numbed her to the searing pain from his ritualistic cleaning from yesterday and earlier that morning. He had to do it again, he had informed her, in order to clean the touch now that she had passed the child. Thankfully her monthly had come upon her, though the cramps had been wretchedly awful; the worse she had endured since she was in her teenage years. Unfortunately, the sedative only made her tired and did not numb the pain.

Turning her head to look at him, she heard the water poured into the beaten copper tub. The steam was rising into cave, and she closed her eyes. What was he going to do, now? Reason was beyond him. How had she fallen in love with him? How could she have been so wrong? While there was a logical part of her brain, the part that knew he had seen pain and horror beyond her comprehension, that told her he was no longer stable? She could not forgive herself for having once loved him. How had the once brilliant doctor turned into this sadistic madman?

David had broken the trust. The man she had loved? How had he become this frightening monster? Sighing, she heard him pour more water into the tub.

Where was Sully? She hated that she had become dependent upon him to save her life, but she needed him. She felt disgusting. The dried blood between her thighs made her cringe and the drying blood made her gag.

That was when she felt the piercing gaze. Swallowing, she began to look up at him with a frightened looked, but stopped. Her chin fell down to her chest and she took a painfully deep breath and felt a bit of bravery come over her body. Her lips were slightly parted and she stared at him. There were no objections, no fear, nothing. She looked at him with the detachment she would given a patient.

"He doesn't love you, Michaela. You're living in a dream, a fantasy. But…" His breathing was happy. "But once you're clean… you will see the truth."

She didn't even speak. Sully hadn't come. Whatever torture David had come up with, she would face. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad.

"What now?"

"Now, we cleanse you."

"You let me bleed on myself, and now you want to clean me?" She was confused; he hadn't even permitted her to relieve herself, the smell of urine intermixed with the blood. He had been applying mint under his nose, and was meticulous about keeping her area the only part of the cave dirty.

She knew that it was near boiling, and her lips parted to accommodate to her growing panic-induced breaths.

"David, please," her strength was rapidly leaving her. "Please don't do this."

She watched his body come towards her, the overwhelming size hovering over before he poured straight salt onto her wounds, her as her lips parted into a scream. "NO! STOP!"

He was painfully calm as he managed to get her struggling form into his arms. He did not speak; it appeared that her cries were lost in his madness as he began to envision her granting him his freedom from the darkness that had plagued her for so long.

Every inch of his body was wet, his clothing becoming a heavy burden as he tried to focus. The pain in his chest was intense and he knew that his own panic was beginning to cloud his perception. Why did it feel like something was happening? Something bad. He passed a giant boulder hill and stared into the distance. Where was she? Why couldn't he find her? God, what if he didn't get to her in time? His mind frantically relived the nightmare over and over again.

He thought he heard a scream. No, it was the wind. He shook it off and began to walk once more, but he thought he heard the sound again.

"Michaela?" he whispered, turning his head. Squinting his eyes, he saw a light near the top of the hill. He couldn't have seen it from another angle.

His breath caught in his throat and he treaded across the creek and started to climb up. Occasionally, he slipped, but he didn't fall down.

The struggles were echoing through the opening of the cave. Reaching for his tomahawk, Sully, crept silently into the chamber, noting that it seemed eerily clean. He heard the panic in her voice, her struggling against him. What was he doing to her? She felt him slip a wedding band upon the appropriate finger.

"I must clean you of him!" he heard David's voice as he continued towards them.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it…" she cried out, each plea stabbing into his heart as he turned the corner.

There was Michaela, only in her undergarments, as she fought against him. David was standing over a tub, struggling to keep her in his grasp. Before Sully could react, he saw David dunk her body into tub.

The tears that ran over her cheeks were painful, but the sudden feeling of being consumed in hot water made her body stiffen. Her mouth dropped open in pain as she felt the hot water embrace her form. Struggling to breathe, struggling against him, she tried to fight before passing out from the pain, the intense heat of the water, and the salt that triggered a reinforced agony from David's previous cleaning.

By the time Michaela had ceased to move, Sully had run up behind David and threw him away from her.

"What did you do to her?" he screamed, his tomahawk to the ready as David hit the wall. "What were you thinkin'?"

David stared at him in confusion. "No. You can't go near her. You've dirtied her. I… I must cleanse her." Sully stalked around him, his blue eyes penetrating in a rage that he had not felt to this extreme. It was not simply the kidnapping; it was the betrayal of his trust, of Michaela's trust.

"You're killin' her!"

He snapped, his single eye glaring at Sully as he lunged. Sully reacted, pressing his hands into David's side as he attempted to ready the tomahawk to hit David. Eventually, their struggling forms were near the opening of the cave and they began struggle against each other, seemingly in dance to maintain their balance. What blows Sully threw at him were fuelled by an anger and hatred that would have frightened him if he could have considered it. David reacted in a possession that moved him methodically, as if watching in the audience and seeing Sully's next move.

David tripped them both to the ground and Sully grunted as he felt the rock floor come in contact with his ribcage. The weapon pressed into David's side, and a grunt articulated the various sounds of struggle with an underlying feeling of pain as blood began to soak his shirt. Sully kicked up, forcing David's body over his own as David's hand clutched the ledge that led into the cave.

"You've ruined everything!" David exclaimed, but his grip failed. Blood was running down his side and before Sully could react, the body of his opponent's body fell, landing in the creek.


	6. Chapter 6

When he entered the cave once more, he struggled before he realised where Michaela's body remained. "Michaela," he breathed, rushing to the side of the tub, his eyes showing the blatant horror and fear as he pulled her out. The hot water stung his skin while he placed her lifeless, bright red body onto the ground.

"Michaela," he breathed, pressing gently onto her stomach. He was frightened when her body convulsed and she coughed up the water that had settled into her stomach. Curled on her side, she groaned but did not wake up.

Pulling her damp hair back from her face, he felt the texture of the salt against her skin; the presence of dampened scabs all over her body; he was surprised to see only few blisters from the extreme heat of the water. After withdrawing his knife, he cut the ropes. He moved to pick her up, but that was when he saw it.

The blood. The blood from his dream. Her clothing had a slight pink tint to it, but the heavily caked blood on at the junction of her pantaloons made him sick to his stomach. "Oh… god…" he choked. He couldn't touch her. Instead, he felt his body curl slightly. He did not bother to fight the tears as they poured onto his cheeks. David. He had raped her. The blood. Even when he closed his eyes to her pain, he saw the blood, crimson red blinding the darkness he so desperately sought out.

She had to have been so scared. How painful it must have been for her. Would she ever let a man touch her again? How many times had he forced her? Why… why couldn't he have prevented this?

"I'm sorry, Michaela," he whimpered, pulling her head closer to him pitifully. "I'm sorry." Oh god, he could feel his heart clenching worse than when Abigail and Hannah had left him; worse than when he thought she had left with him. No, this was worse; it was his fault. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't protect ya. I'll… oh, god…" His mind replayed over everything – the first kiss, the first touch, the first time he declared his love for her, the first time she responded. He had sworn then that he would protect her. He promised to take care of her. But he had failed. How could he have failed her?

His body shook with sobs as he suffocated on his tears, begging whomever would listen to give him more time, more strength, more speed before cursing him for not having granted him those advantages. "Michaela, please… please forgive me. I'm sorry. I'm so so so… sorry." All that he had held dear to him since the fateful night he lost his world the first time was laying before him, bloodied, beaten, tortured. How could he wish she would heal? How could he breathe? There is no hope to be found amongst the misery; no good to counteract the bad.

It was as though someone else was moving his body, but his emotions still controlled his cries. Words of apology poured from his mouth as he slowly moved to the pail of water that was still nearby. He was equally as afraid of touching her as he was of letting her go; he moved to pour the water over her body. "Please, please, I'm so sorry," he continued to whimper, his sight blinded by his tears. Cleaning her as gently as he could, pouring the water over the wounds, her skin was soon no longer was caked with the salt. He started with her face, wiping away the granules, before continuing with the rest of the uncovered skin, though what remained in her hair would have to wait until later. The fire was still going and he gently moved her towards it and wrapped her with a nearby blanket.

"Wake up," he whispered. "Please, Michaela. I'm sorry, just please wake up. Wake up. Come back t'me." Shaking as he reached his hand out to caress her cheek. "Come back t'me; forgive me."

* * *

Her eyes fluttered against the light, shifting slightly. So blinded by his fear, he stared at her, whimpering for her to regain consciousness, that he didn't notice when she started to stir. He was still repeating the words over and over again, a fear struck into his heart. He was still a little boy in many aspects and it would have been so blatantly obvious to all who witnessed the broken man who wanted to change the past.

Time was not measured as she tried to struggle back to consciousness. But she heard his voice. He was begging to her come back and she wanted nothing more than to go back to a few days before when he had held her all night and she had never felt so safe. Would she ever feel that way again? What if Sully became like David? Turned against her during their marriage?

No. Sully had already been to his darkest place. _Ya took me away from it, Michaela, _he had once said to her. He wouldn't hurt her; not like David did. The trust, she had to trust him. But she was so confused and all she wanted was to forget what had happened.

"Ssss… Sully?" she whispered. "Save me."

He thought her voice was a figment of his imagination but he snapped to attention when he saw her moving. "Michaela?" he croaked, sitting up as he looked at her through the tear-encased eyes. "I'm here. He… he won't hurt you again. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Swallowing, she looked up at him. "Water…" she whispered. He quickly grasped his canteen and cradled her head into the crook of his arm. At first, he offered her too much and she choked. Flinching at his mistake, he lowered the canteen and watched as she swallowed eagerly. Finally letting her head fall back, she breathed heavily before looking up into his eyes. "What… what happened?" She had never seen him like this and it made her feel even more frightened.

"Michaela, I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" He pressed his face into her hair, and wept silently. "Tell me. Tell me how to fix ya."

"Sully… don't leave me… I can't…" She turned her head into his chest, oblivious to the pained limbs.

"I won't leave ya, Michaela. I won't leave ya ever again," he vowed.

The rain had lightened some and they merely carefully clung to each other in a desperate silence. Feeling more awake than she had since David tricked her, she gingerly reached her hand up to his damp hair and ran her fingers through the slightly tangled locks.

"Sully?"

"I'm here," he whispered. "I ain't lettin' ya go, again."

She caught a glimpse of the wedding ring and shook her head. "No. No!" she cried out. "I won't be his wife!"

Sully's eyes widened as he stared at her in shock while she looked at the ring in horror. Her skin, still reddened with the heated water and previous agitated wounds, flushed further with a panic. She fumbled with it before it came off and it fell onto the ground, revealing a now broken blister that had been beneath the ring. The tears streamed endlessly from her eyes as her hands tangled into his soaked shirt and clung to him. Seeing her pain, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into lap and clung to her as desperately as she clung to him.

"Don't worry. He won't touch ya again. Tell me how to make it better."

"I don't want to be here, Sully. Take me away from here." She gave into desperate gasps. "I won't be with him. He won't… he won't be saved with me. Don't let him touch me, Sully. Please…"

"I'll take ya back to town…"

"No," she shook her head. "I can't. I can't… let them see me…"

"Homestead?"

"No. The children… they… stay with me, Sully."

He thought frantically. "The lean-to? I'll take ya there? We'll… get ya cleaned up."

She simply nodded, giving into her weariness, and closing her eyes once more.

* * *

Somehow, Sully had managed to get her back to the lean-to. After grabbing her bag and wrapping her in blankets, he carried her easily back to his horse. He wasn't certain how long it was before they managed to get to the lean-to, but he made sure the horse didn't take a pace that would cause her any more unnecessary pain. Occasionally he stopped, giving her more water and gently feeding some of the food he had in his pack.

Once there, he set her down gently on the ground and removed the now-damp blankets. He tossed them far away from them, not wanting the reminder of David. When his eyes caught the blood stains, he stopped and tried not to stare. He couldn't help but break down once more.

"Michaela, I'm sorry." She looked up at him, confused, curled up on her side. He offered her more water and food.

"Sully? I need… something dry. And…" she gulped in mortification. "Cloths… there are some in my bag. I need..." She nearly cried from embarrassment.

"I… I got one of my shirts. But… we can wrap a blanket around ya?" He was trying not to think about the blood; even when she nodded, he did not immediately jump into action. Swallowing, he went to retrieve a dry shirt and helped her under the lean-to. He moved behind her so that he his legs were on either side of her, looking at her back. "Michaela?"

She was shaking and waving slightly. "Help me… out of my camisole. I… I can't do it, Sully." She paused, feeling his hand move to the hem before she reached for it.

Gulping, he closed his eyes and pulled the camisole over her head, feeling her shudder more against the cold and the pain of moving her limbs. His eyes opened slightly, seeing the massive abrasions on her arms and shaking in anger. He couldn't think about it. Not now. Gently, he assisted the shirt onto her arms and above her shoulders. Her hands shook as she fastened the buttons.

"The cloths?" She nodded. It would be uncomfortable and she wanted to cry in embarrassment. He pulled a blanket over her legs and turned away as she managed to get out of her pantaloons, cleaning herself with the dampened piece of undergarment. He heard her struggling, whimpering, and he bit the inside of his lips as he tried not leave to beat David or scream how cruel life was to her. Finding the clothes in her bag, he cleared his throat and waited.

"Okay." She whispered. Looking down, ashamed, he handed her the cloths and she placed them between her legs once he turned away from her once more.

Once situated, she looked at him and struggled to the back of the lean-to. He moved towards her and carefully helped her, guiding her to the back of the lean-to. She watched him curiously as he began to move away from her, towards the front of the lean-to. Despite the small size, she felt as though he was miles away.

"Sully? Look at me." She whispered, reaching out for him. Ashamed, he turned towards her, but did not meet her gaze.

"Yeah?"

She didn't want to ask him. The tears started afresh. She was so tired and confused and all she wanted was to get lost in their private world for a little while. Croaking, she gasped, "Why won't you hold me? I…" Was he ashamed of her? Did he think that she wanted David to kidnap her? If he was ashamed, then she had been wrong. Wrong again. "I didn't want him, Sully. Please… please… don't be ashamed…"

Her words stung him as painfully as if she had slapped him. Turning to her, he looked at her. "No, Michaela. I ain't ashamed at you…" He struggled over his words, crouching near her as he pulled a tangled strand of her hair out of her face. "I…"

"What? What happened, Sully? Please," she pleaded with him, her face exhibiting such pain that it refreshed the pain in his chest.

Turning away from her, he looked into the darkness. "I'm ashamed of myself. He… he hurt you 'cause of me." She barely heard his words. "I can't… forgive myself. I didn't protect my wife. My… heartsong… I don't… I don't deserve ya."

She reached for his hand, finally able to touch it after a some struggling to cover the distance. "You save me."

"Not from the worst." His words hung heavy in the air. She didn't know what to think.

"Look at me," she whispered. He didn't oblige. "Sully, look at me. Please."

Sighing, he looked at her once more. She saw the pain and tears and everything, seeing him so exposed that it took her aback.

"He raped you because of me…" she wasn't sure if she heard him properly, but she shook her head.

"No."

He looked at her. "It's my fault!"

"My monthly," she whispered, ashamed. Suddenly, she saw him lay down next to her and smiled softly. "I'm sorry… I…" Why was he laying down next to her now?

"Shhh…" he kissed her temple and snuggled close to her. "He didn't…?" The fear of her repelling his touch was gone, but he was still careful.

"No. But… you… you called me your wife?" She tried to comprehend. He had thought she had been taken by another man and he still thought of her as his wife? How could he?

The confusion in her eyes made him shake his head. "Nothing will change that." He pulled her closer to him and buried his head into her hair. "He can't hurt ya again. He fell off the side. Down into the creek."

He straightened up and reached for her bag, retrieved one of the salves that she kept and carefully massaged it into her scabbing wounds, and even more carefully onto the blisters. No words were exchanged and once he was finished, he laid next to her once more, placing his arm protectively around her and watching her as she finally gave into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Dawn broke over the homestead as the children began to do their morning chores in a sombre mood. Brian was especially depressed; not even Pup could make him smile. At one point, Matthew took over some of his younger brother's chores.

"Maybe we can go fishin', Brian." He offered, coming out of the barn.

"No. What if Ma comes back?" He was afraid. Afraid that his mother had been hurt, afraid that she wouldn't want him anymore. He didn't want to lose another Ma. Kicking a stone across the dirt, it hit the side of the house just as the sound of a horse came up from the road. "Ma?" Running towards the sound, Sully appeared into the homestead's clearing, Michaela clinging to his back. "Ma!"

"Dr. Mike?" Colleen and Matthew came up to the horse, Matthew taking Dr. Mike into his arms as Sully jumped down. Brian kept trying to hug her, but his height made it far too awkward as she struggled to maintain her composure before Sully picked her up once more.

"What's wrong with her?" Colleen asked, trying to pull Brian away. "Stop it, Brian! We gotta get her inside!"

"She's tired. Ain't had no food or water, 'cept what I gave her." He looked at Brian tried to think of a way to tell the two older children what was going on without scaring Brian. "Brian, go get yer ma a glass of water." He watched the youngest scamper into the house while slowing his steps. "She's scratched up. He put her in a tub of hot water… blisters on her body. I'll get her inside, Colleen, and ya need t'clean her up. Matthew and me'll stay out here with Brian."

Shortly, they left Colleen alone in the house with Michaela as they waited outside. Matthew was kicking dirt around at the base of the steps while Brian waited uncomfortably.

"She really alright?" There was the unspoken question from Matthew's lips, looking at Sully as though fearing the answer.

"Yeah." The multiple answers were seen in his eyes before sitting on the steps, resting his elbows on his knees with his fingers near his mouth.

"Ma's gonna stay, right Sully?"

"Hmm?" The blue eyes looked to the young boy, broken from his brief reverie.

Walking closer to his essential father, he looked down at his boot. "Ma ain't goin' back t'Boston, is she?"

Confusion swept over his eyes and he looked at the young boy softly. "No. She ain't goin' back." He wanted to ask Brian why he had asked, but decided against it.

Nearly in tears, Brian looked up at Sully's face. "Sully? You're still gonna be our pa, right?" His voice cracked under the weight of his fear. "She ain't gonna go with David?"

Taken aback, Sully looked briefly up at Matthew, seeing the young man's regret immediately on his facial expression. How could they let Brian know? Taking the young boy into his arms, he patted his back and sighed. "Yeah. I'm still gonna be your pa. David… she ain't goin' with David."

"He took her, though. He took her away…" He choked.

"He ain't gonna do it again, Brian. She'll always be your ma." He let the boy release his tears, looking up at Matthew as though expecting an explanation, which he promptly received.

Sighing, he began. "Brian overheard us talkin' 'bout what happened. Heard us mention David."

"What does the town know?"

"Guy named Andrew Strauss took her. Thought she was his ol' fiancé from before the war. Brian… don't go tellin' no one 'bout David's real name."

Pulling his head back from Sully's hair, he looked at his older brother. "Why not?"

A release of a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding, Sully took the answer. "'Cause… folks… folks wouldn't understand. They'd…" How do you explain to a child that people would have thought it voluntary? Even with her wounds, how many would actually believe that she hadn't known it to be him? That she hadn't pretended to play along in hopes of gaining attention or something? There were too many potentially bad rumours for them to face. "Because they'd say mean things that'd hurt your Ma."

Nodding slowly, Brian swallowed hard. "I won't say nothin'. I don't wanna see Ma cry."

"Good."

The door opening brought their attentions back to the interior of the homestead and the three men retreated in.


	7. Chapter 7

Walking up to the door of the clinic, Sully knocked softly and waited. Over a month had passed since David had taken Michaela. And it had been a long month.

They had not found David's body. The already-full creek had flooded some and while Robert E and Sully and spent two days searching, they never came across a body in the branches or taken off to the shore by a wild animal. Robert E suspected that the body was lost; a mystery. Sully did not share this sentiment.

Olive had come down with scarlet fever and only barely survived. She decided that after the first of the year, Matthew would take over the herd and she would retire. Loren and she had been arguing as to where she would retire to, but Sully had to admit that the arguments were a bit amusing to witness. Shortly after this proposal, Sully had approached Matthew regarding the old homestead. Sully offered it to him; Matthew had initially declined. The argument Sully had was a good one: once Matthew took over the herd, he would have little time to work on building his own homestead and it was not feasibly possible that he could have it built before January. Matthew eventually agreed on one condition – that he helped Sully build the new homestead. At first reluctant, Matthew had chided him. _Smart man told me pride's a foolish man's burden, Sully_. Even now, Sully shook his head. Inevitably, he had given in; and he would even admit that the progress on the new homestead was coming along nicely.

But Michaela had been more troubled by the ordeal than she let on. All of the progress they had made in regards to the physical contact of their relationship prior to David was gone. Whereas when they had first began to court, she had objected or backed away, or pretended to be more concerned with teaching him how to dance, she now simply did not… react. At first, he did not push her, not that he did now. He had foolishly thought that after they spent the night in the lean-to that everything would be okay, but by the time Colleen had dressed her wounds, everything was different. The weekend before, he had granted a sweet kiss on her lips, but she did not reciprocate.The number of embraces had gone down, and it was the manner in which she held him that provoked further concern; simply, she did not return the affection.

He was trying to be understanding. The physical ailments had taken some time to heal, especially the blisters. But it was more than that; it was almost as if she was afraid of him. Every time he tried to entice her to speak with him, she became even more quiet.

And Michaela Quinn was not one to remain quiet for very long.

Brian clung to her skirts now that she had returned, insisting on checking the clinic several times throughout the day to ensure that she was well. They had lunch together every day, and while Sully understood that Brian had been frightened by his mother's once again abduction, it made it difficult to get a moment in which to talk to her.

Even now, Michaela was using Brian as an excuse. She wouldn't go with Sully on a walk due to the fact Brian might arrive unexpectedly at the clinic and find her missing. When they went out to visit the Cheyenne, Brian took away any privacy by riding along with them. The only time Sully could even attempt to speak to her alone were the fleeting moments between patients and emergencies at the clinic, or at the homestead after dinner. And even then, she would not leave the house until Brian was asleep and her responses were monotonous. Often she was so lost in her mind that he had to repeat what he had said.

The fire was gone in her eyes, or at least significantly dulled. In a way, Sully was scared. He had never seen her like that, and he wasn't sure what to do. It was subtle, but she was pushing him. He didn't know where to.

Finally the door opened and he smiled broadly at her, presenting her with a small bouquet of flowers he had picked out by the homestead. "Afternoon."

"Hello," she responded shortly, looking at him neutrally before opening the door further to permit his entrance. He smelled the sterility of the clinic and had noticed she was cleaning it more often than usual.

Turning to look upon her as she shut the door, he handed her the flowers and grasped her spare hand to press a loving kiss into it, watching her facial reaction. It did not change.

After a brief pause, she spoke. "Forgive my manners. Thank you." She indicated to the bouquet and pulled away from his grasp to find a container to put the flowers in.

"You're welcome," he said softly, looking at her with obvious worry and defeat present in his slumped shoulders. "Got a lot done on the homestead. Matthew's havin' lunch with Ingrid. Thought I'd stop by 'fore we get back to work." She simply nodded.

It wasn't that she did not love him. Somewhere, under the layer of deadness she felt, she did still love him.

But David. How could she have been so wrong about David? When they had been courting, he was a perfect gentleman; with the exception of the last night before he left for war. But that had been pardoned, for she figured it was desperation and fear that lead to the breach in his character. She had only ever seen him fight once. He had boxed Dr. Louis Greene in a friendly game, and she had arrived at the end when nearly everyone was pretending to punch the person next to him. He had been so gentle.

He never kissed her like Sully had.

Perhaps he was right. She had disregarded Boston for the sake of her own physical pleasure. There was no freedom to be found and she had been a hypocrite to think as much. She could not give into such fanciful notions of a passionate love that belonged only in dime-novels. It didn't exist. While she had not lain with Sully, she certainly had acted out of propriety for even Colorado Springs. Not "dirty", as David had seen her. But certainly not proper.

She had failed David. It had been atrocious for her to think that if David had not died, she would not have found Sully. How could she have been so disrespectful to him? If she had never given in to Sully, David would have been alright. She would have found him the help he needed.

But she loved Sully. And she had not broken their engagement; nor did she intend to. In fact, she did not know what she was doing. She just moved through the day. Brian had become her concern and she gave into his need to be near her. As long as she felt like a mother and was distracted by him, she could not invest the time to feel confused about the relationship she had with Sully; the words that David had spoken.

Michaela was waiting; waiting for someone to tell her what to do, how to act, what to say. She was waiting for Sully to push her in one direction or the other. And a part of her was waiting to see what he became. To see if she would ruin him, too. It made no sense. She even knew that it made no sense. But she could not shake away from her illogical feelings.

"I'm gonna go check my traps tomorrow. If I can get some good skins, I'll be able to buy more lumber. Keep goin' at a good pace." He tried to engage her, watching her as she avoided him.

Pursing her lips, she actually was interested. "Sully? I could pay for the lumber."

At first, he almost didn't believe she had actually spoken. But any relief he felt was immediately overshadowed by what she said. "Ya ain't gotta do that, Michaela. I got it. I'll provide for us."

Turning to look at him, he saw the determination and he wasn't certain he wanted to see it in this aspect. "Why not? We are going to be family, are we not? What is mine is yours and what is yours is mine? You can use my money, _our_ money, for the homestead!"

He physically bit his tongue as he closed his eyes. "I can take care of us, Michaela. I don't need your money." Why didn't she believe that he could take care of them? Did she have such little faith?

"You are being stubborn, Sully. Money is just… money. I have earned it fairly. You should use it. It is going to be my house, too."

"I'm buildin' our house!"

"Yes, and it is our money!" Her voice actually had passion for the first time in so long, he wasn't sure if he was having a dream. Then again, in his dreams, when she was acting like herself… she wasn't yelling at him about money.

Their argument was interrupted by Brian's voice on the other side of the door. "Ma?" he called out, waiting for permission.

"Michaela, we gotta finish this…"

She brushed past him to open the door, shaking her head. "There isn't anything left to discuss. Discussion implies negotiation in this respect. And Brian needs me." She heard him heavily sigh as she opened the door, putting on a smile for Brian as he came into the clinic.

"Hey, Sully!"

"Hey, Brian." He hid his disappointment in the boy's arrival as best as he could.

"What were ya arguin' 'bout?" He asked, looking up at his mother.

Contemplating potential answers, she looked at Sully with a bit of anger, but the numbness finding its way back once more. She couldn't trust this, she couldn't go back. She had to maintain the control. "Nothing of importance." Dropping her gaze, she sighed. "Will we see you tonight at dinner?"

Why did he have to push her? He flinched as he realised what he had done, frustrated with the circumstances that led her to act like this, frustrated with the fact he couldn't make it better for her. Letting out his own sigh, he nodded. "Yeah." He reached to touch her shoulder, trying to catch her gaze. She did not grant him it. Her shoulders rose slightly without her realising it. "I'll see ya tonight."

* * *

"Will that be all for you, Dr. Mike?" Loren smiled at her as she placed the basket on top of the counter. It was mid-afternoon and the doctor had come by to obtain some supplies for the clinic, as well as check up on Olive's condition. 

"Mmmm…" she eyed Brian, who looked at the candy jars longingly. "And some candy. And Olive is making great progress on her recovery." The little boy turned and grinned, before heading towards the lemon drops.

Finishing his calculations, Loren looked up at her. "Good 'bout Olive. Done a fine job, Dr. Mike. Fine job. That'll be… $2.18." The money was retrieved from her coat pocket and the storekeeper smiled at her and Brian. "So, Dr. Mike, when are ya going to be orderin' a new sign?"

Stopping, Michaela looked at him confused. "A new sign? There is nothing wrong with my current one."

Grinning, he placed his hand in his pockets. "But you'll have to have one that says 'Dr. Michaela Sully, MD' after Sully finishes the homestead and you are married. And you'll have to reduce the hours you spend there, too, I reckon. You'll be a wife."

The words that emanated from Loren's mouth provoked her brow to come together in an expression that demonstrated her discomfort with this conversation. "I'll get back to you on that, Loren." Turning on her heel, she smiled at Brian and watched him as he ran off, content with his candy. The basket in her hand barely moved as she walked down the dirt road towards the clinic, each imprint of her shoe seemingly deeper than the one before as the burden slowed and weighed on her movements.

To say that she hadn't thought about her name after the marriage would be a lie; she had thought about it. But it had not been at the forefront of her thoughts. A few weeks back, she and Sully could barely speak to one another as they bickered about money and while he finally gave in permitting the use of "their" money, she had been hesitant broach the subject with him.

Or any subject, for that matter.

Once in the clinic, she began the process of putting away the supplies, still running over the brief conversation in her mind. Michaela Sully? She had been Michaela Quinn her whole life. It was a part of her; it was her. Sully did not actually anticipate for her to change her name, did he? Since it had never been brought up, she had no insight as to his opinion on the matter. And reduced clinic hours? Would he honestly expect her to become a housewife? She was as much Quinn as she was Doctor as she was the daughter of Josef and Elizabeth.

Leaving her basket to be finished tomorrow, she left the clinic and headed out of town towards the new homestead.

* * *

Sully would never have believed the homestead would have come so far in such a short time. He anticipated that it could be finished by Christmas, or at least liveable by Thanksgiving. Matthew was efficient in his work, often not needing guidance but requesting when necessary so as not to waste time. Sully knew that Matthew wanted the new homestead finished before he took over Olive's herd as much as he did; if only to fulfil his promise to Sully. When Matthew had admitted that he was going to do some work on the old homestead before Ingrid and he were married, Sully offered his help and Matthew accepted – but only if Sully would accept one of the cattle in exchange. (Their bargaining was amusing to watch for Colleen, who had been an active audience member to this verbal exchange. She had lost count how many times they had used the quote "pride is a foolish man's burden" and now relentlessly teased them both with it.) 

But Matthew was gone for the rest of the afternoon and Sully was enjoying a small break before he snuck inside to work on his wedding present for Michaela. It would be their marital bed, meticulously and lovingly carved. The design had only been finished the day before and he had just finished preparing it for the main carving.

He sighed as his mind drifted to thinking of Michaela. She was still quiet about most things. When they had argued about the money, it was the most they had spoken to each other since David. Cloud Dancing had tried to set him straight, and he did eventually bend, but he wondered how much of their arguing, especially at first, had been her channelling her anger.

_She has every right t'be angry with me_, he had often thought. Whatever had happened between her and David, she would not talk about. And he could not conceive of what she had been put through. It had been nearly three months; three long months. She would no longer cringe when he touched her, but she was still rather subdued in conversation when they were around. And when there was debate at the dinner table, or she began to give into her active participation within just general conversation, she almost seemed back to normal; only to appear as if she had made a mistake and withdrawing once more.

While they had worked together, Matthew confessed that she had occasionally had nightmares. More than occasionally. She would wake up when they happened and wouldn't go back to sleep. The only reason that he knew they were nightmares was once she had woken up Colleen and his sister had told him. When he told Sully, Matthew wondered if he would confront her about them. Sully had; but she brushed him off and told him it was nonsense.

After dinner, they would go and sit on the porch. He could feel her fear in the air when they were like that. Sometimes, they would talk about nothing; sometimes they wouldn't talk at all. But there had been a small bit of progress, a couple weeks back.

"_Michaela?"_

"_Hmm?" She was sipping her tea._

"_Don't go takin' this the wrong way, but…" He sighed, wishing she would look at him. His voice dropped and he felt his heart cease beating in anticipation for her answer. "Ya… still want to marry me, don't ya?"_

_Shooting her head up, she looked at him. "Of course." The tears were already threatening her eyes. "I mean… I understand… if you don't want to marry me anymore. After what happened, I could hardly blame you. But, I do want to marry you. But I won't make you."_

_Needless to say, that was not the answer he had been anticipating. Taken aback by her believing that he did not want to marry her, he tried to catch her gaze and actually succeeded. _

"_Michaela… 'course I wanna marry you. It's just… ya been so quiet. I thought maybe ya didn't want the weddin' or… I don't know. Ya don't seem excited."_

_She was painfully quiet for several long moments. "I'm afraid." It was one of her multitude of fears that had developed since David came back into her life. _

"_Of what?" he whispered, almost afraid to ask for fear of his voice provoking her to fall back into the metaphorical cave that she would not allow herself to escape from._

"_That I cannot be a wife to you… the wife… you… you want and deserve. Ever since, I just... I don't know, anymore."_

_He did not need further clarification than that. He knew precisely what she was referring to. Very carefully, he reached for her hand and held it, despite the movement she made to withdraw it from his grasp. _

"_Remember when I held ya all night? When you were sick?"_

_She fondly recalled the experience. She wondered briefly if she would ever feel that sense of security once more. "Yes." She found herself looking deeply into his intense gaze for the first time in so long, she felt as if it was the first time all over again; the anxiety, the rush, and yet the surprising calm that lingered as if the breath of a lover's goodbye. _

"_That was the… If all I ever do for the rest of my days is get t'hold ya? I would be happy every day." The honesty was present in his eyes, his voice, even how he held her hand. _

_Nodding, she moved closer to him. He hesitantly placed an arm around her shoulder and felt her carefully lean against him. "Promise?"_

"_Yup. Promise."_

It hadn't been much, but it had been something. He hadn't pressed since then. She had even started kissing his cheek on the occasion when they gave each other a half embrace. Cloud Dancing had mentioned his concern when she went to visit the tribe, and he was constantly reminded Sully of patience, though even he was having his doubts. Sully had confided he thought there had been more physical than Michaela had let on; Cloud Dancing informed him that the fears that plagued Michaela's mind had been small seeds once, and David had fed them into a great fear whose roots were taking all of her strength.

The sounds of the approaching horse interrupted his thoughts and he could not prevent a smile catching his lips as he saw Flash and Michaela approach. Standing, he went to assist her out of the saddle, smiling as she came to the ground.

"Hey." His smile was quickly counteracted by the feeling she was not here for a friendly call.

"Hello." She stopped and looked at the house. She had watched it grow and be built as if it had been a child. There was anxiety in its completion, but Sully's talents took her breath away momentarily. "It looks… beautiful."

"Matthew's been a lotta help. How are ya?" He let his hand guide her gently away from her horse. Her lack of immediate answer made him all the more worried.

"Sully?" She stopped and turned to look at him. Her eyes faltered and looked to the ground as if the answer to all of her questions would magically be found in the grass before looking to the surrounding trees for guidance. Nothing. "I don't want a new sign for the clinic."

He stopped, watching the obvious internal frustration she was feeling as she grappled for how to talk to him. Her statement, though, confused him. "What d'ya mean?"

Swallowing, she continued to look at every place she could, except him. "Loren asked me when I would have the sign made that said 'Dr. Michaela Sully, M.D.'" She stopped before continuing, her voice dropping slightly. "I don't want to be Dr. Sully."

His brow furrowed as he attempted to digest what she had just said. "I don't understand."

"I don't want to change my name when we're married." She did not elaborate. He purposely waited for her to elaborate. She had to have more to say than that. If she didn't, she was provoking him. And he felt the provocation. All of the undirected frustration from the last few months had been bottled up for too long.

"Why? Ain't my name good enough?" His voice rose slightly as he looked at her, the hurt obvious in his face.

"I… I just… it's part of who I am!" She countered. His raised voice got her attention, provoking her to throw off the docile nature she had attempted to adapt momentarily.

"And you're gonna be part of my family!" Grunting, he clenched his jaw and tried again. "I get it, Michaela. Don't ya want to be… don't ya want our family?"

"I was a Quinn before I agreed to be your wife! And men never change their names! They never have to lose that piece of their identity. First, I'll have to change my name and then I'll have to be a… a house wife!" She was being completely unreasonable. A part of her even acknowledged that she was; but she was too consumed.

"House wife?" He exclaimed. "You're gonna be a wife. I'm gonna be a husband. It's… that's how marriage works!"

"I'm not giving up my practise for you!" She hollered, staring at him with anger and frustration, biting her lip for giving in to the argument.

He kicked a nearby rock away from her and turned slightly away from her. "When did I ask ya to give up your practise? I would never ask that of you." The last sentence was articulated clearly, pointing to himself as he said it. "Bein' a doctor is who you are, Michaela! Why would you think I could ask that of you? Don't you trust me at all? I ain't tryin' to control ya!"

Her gaze caught his for a moment, but it was long enough for him to see. No part of this conversation was about control. Not even the money had been truly about pride. A façade. There was anger at herself, but also at the situation. There was even a glimmer of hatred for the circumstances. But that was not what had dumbfounded him. As tears fell over her eyes and she cringed at his raised voice, he saw her fear. As exposed as a new born babe, he saw fear.

"Please…" His voice stumbled as his shoulders slumped forward, as if he was defeated. "Michaela, please don' say you're afraid of me." Fear had consumed his own voice now, it shaking slightly as he said the words. "You know… you know in your heart, Michaela. I am not David."

How could he have seen? When Sully spoke those words, she let the fear grip her chest. No no no, he couldn't have seen the fear! She didn't want to be afraid, but she was. She didn't want to admit to herself, she couldn't confess it to her own heart. She wanted to be afraid of Sully. She wanted to validate that she had made David what he became, and that she would somehow turn Sully an even worse monster. If she didn't turn him, then David had been a monster at heart when she felt loved him; a monster she had almost married. Rather she had ruined both of them instead of having been so blind as to have loved someone so blemished.

"I don't want to ruin you," she cried softly as she turned away from him to run to her horse. Sully raced after her, stopping her. "Stop! I… I have to get back to Brian."

"Stop usin' him as an excuse, Michaela. Talk to me."

Shaking her head, she tried to pull away. "I can't…"

"No," he said, feeling her struggle against him until they inevitably fell to the ground as quickly as the tears ran down her cheeks. "No, you ain't runnin' away. Tell me, Michaela. Stop pushin' me away, 'cause I ain't goin' nowhere."

"He said…" she sobbed, pressing her face into his shirt. "He said I would heal him. But I wouldn't have. I would have failed. And you… I made him like that. I failed him. I would fail you. It was my fault." Her words were stumbling as awkward as a newborn colt trying to stand, gasping for air as she felt the marks on her skin as if she was back in the cave, trapped in the torment once more. "What if I'm wrong?" Words she had already spoken were repeated over and over again as they became a decrescendo towards silence.

Rocking her back and forth, he found himself speechless. What could he say that had not already been spoken, and she had already accounted to be false? This fear that held her; this was not his Michaela. She had not been herself since David had touched her. In that manner, he had dirtied her. He killed her spirit without killing her. But she was still there. The flickers of it were still enough to make him believe that she was not completely broken.

"I'm waiting for you to leave me."

The soft caresses ceased when she whispered those words. It hurt; she thought so little of him. _It ain't her. She don't think that._

"You wouldn't hold me when you thought he raped me. You… you were in the front of the lean-to. You only came closer after I told you." He had been ashamed. He had been ashamed as David had been ashamed. He couldn't look at her and see her for what she was.

That, he knew, he was guilty of. But at the time, it had made sense; he hadn't wanted to scare her. Again, how could he explain this to her and have her see the truth? His silence was becoming painful for both of them.

"Come with me," he whispered. She shook her head. "Ain't an option. We're goin' to Cloud Dancing."


	8. Chapter 8

Cloud Dancing had been waiting for them. They were astride Sully's horse when they arrived, Michaela holding her head down to hide her tears behind her hair from her friends. Snow Bird came over, looking at them both before nodding to her husband.

Reaching to help her down, Cloud Dancing was sombre, not trying to mince words. "We have prepared the sweat lodge."

As he jumped off his horse, Sully immediately looked confused. "You knew we were comin' today?"

He nodded. "Yes. The spirits told me the hawk's injury has run too deep. It will heal her."

Looking up at him, Michaela did not say any words at first. She had tried to argue with Sully, but here she was. The children were going to stay in town for the night, though Brian had been unwilling to let her go. Michaela wasn't even certain of what Colleen had said to him, or maybe Sully had spoken to him. Regardless, she did not want to do this.

Sensing her reluctance, Cloud Dancing turned to look at her. "If you do not want to heal, this will not work. You have to want to find peace."

She didn't look at him. Instead, she hunched her shoulders and pondered what he had said. "I want to go back to before David came back into my life," she finally whispered.

"But you and Sully became engaged after he returned, did you not?" Cloud Dancing had not dropped his gaze.

"I wish he had not come at all."

He was careful, his tone not condescending. "Sully's illness came as a result of the hawk. If David had not come, where do you think you would be now?"

That caught her attention. Slowly, she brought her gaze up to the medicine man. She had forgotten Sully's presence and merely looked into the concerned brown eyes.

"I…"she choked. "I want to not be afraid, anymore. I feel as though he stole something from me. And I want it back. I want to be free from my fears; from him."

Sully felt helpless as Cloud Dancing placed his hand on Michaela's shoulder and began to guide her into the trees and towards the small structure that had been built earlier that day to the medicine man's specifications. He watched as Cloud Dancing helped her through the flap and took her in there; a sudden feeling of anxiety settled over his heart and down into his stomach as he watched.

"What is it that troubles you?" The voice of Snow Bird provoked him to hesitantly turn towards her.

"Michaela." It was that simple, wasn't it? He shook his head at the food she offered him, the mid-afternoon sky mostly hidden by the trees. "I want her to be all right."

She rested a hand on her friend's shoulder, chuckling softly. "You are not very good at hiding from me, Sully. How many moons did you spend with us? I know when you are worried. And I know when you are afraid."

His shoulders slouched at the last comment. "I don't wanna lose her. I'd do anythin' for her. If she wanted me to go, I would."

"You are afraid she will see a path that does not lead her to you." It was not a question.

And he had no response; his silence gave her the truth of the statement more than words.

"When he took her, you doubted her?"

He swallowed at the accusation. "No. I doubted me. I ain't what she's from. I could never give her what she had in Boston."

"What makes you think that she wanted you to give her Boston? She came back to you. Here. She did not ask you to build your home there."

"It ain't that simple." He was beginning to become frustrated at her simple logic. Simply because it was not that straightforward.

Chuckling softly, she pulled him further away from the sweat lodge. "If she had wanted to go to Boston, she would not have returned. I think you need to not focus on Boston or Colorado." Her playful eyes looked up into his brooding ones, a glint sparkling at her amusement. "Where a man builds his tepee does not matter. It is how he builds it, and who he builds it with. I thought Dr. Mike loved you because of you. Not because you are Colorado."

Staring at her, he had nothing to say to that. The moments passed in a pressing silence, as though hours had passed during the few short minutes.

"What if she asks me to leave?"

"She will not ask you if you trust she will return to you. How is she to heal if you do not trust how you feel? What you felt towards each other. Every time Cloud Dancing goes out to hunt, I trust that he comes back to me. I might be afraid, but my heart trusts that we are still together." Placing a hand upon his shoulder, she smiled. "Trust your feelings for her. She will feel that trust. It will be the bright star in the sky; it will guide her back to you."

In the physical world, she was naked under the heavy blankets, her body as wet as if she had been in a river. She was alone, with only the steam to keep her company had she wanted it. Eyes were closed as her body became the physical demonstration the emotional torment she now participated in.

When her eyes opened, she took in her surroundings with a slow care. It was the cave, except it seemed longer. Outside the entrance, she saw the pounding rain of the night she had been rescued, further away than she recalled. The old bath was waiting in the corner, steam coming up in a deathly gas that provoked moisture to drip from the rock above.

Her clothing was cleaned. No smell of urine, no blood. Her hair was clean. She was clean, without the scoring marks from the stone. Despite the fact there was nothing to prevent her from walking out, she did not try and leave.

"Hello." The dark voice echoed several times off of the wall, getting louder before it became nothing more than a lingering whisper.

"What do you want from me, David?" She turned to view him, her lips parted as her eyes squinted in a hesitant fear.

"We will return to Boston. And you will make me free." He stepped towards her.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and took a step back. "No."

"Yes."

"I am not the woman you once put your faith in," she retorted. There was strength in those words. The fleeting memory of who she was seemed to strengthen her resolve as she squared her shoulders back. "Who I was back then does not exist anymore…" She stopped, realising the words that came from her mouth. "And you are not the same man that you once were."

At her words, he took a step back; back towards the tub. "You're wrong, Michaela. I have always been like this."

"No," she whispered, but not out of fear for the strength was still there. "What happened to you… you could not handle. Few men could. Whatever you were before the war died in Andersonville, David. Whomever this is, it is not David Lewis. You are now Andrew Strauss. And you will never be David Lewis again."

He began to twitch slightly and she was taken aback at the physical change that was slowly occurring as she looked upon him. His feet became claws. No, talons. The brown of his coat and the white of his shirt were slowly becoming feathers. The transformation frightened her, but she still made no movement to run.

"He'll change. You'll change him. You'll change him as you changed me," his voice cracked.

Silence embraced the room for moments before another voice joined. "No." Turning at the interruption, Michaela gasped.

"Sully?"

"I ain't you, David." It was as though he was oblivious to her as he stopped beside her, his eyes never leaving David's transforming figure. "I could never be like you."

"You are weak. Michaela will make you weaker. She'll clip your ties; you should have never had her. Don't you understand? This was never meant to be."

Her brow furrowed as she watched him speak. "No. He is not you, David." But Sully interrupted her.

"I've already been to the darkest place, David. And it didn't kill me. It didn't ruin me. I wanted to give in."

What did he mean by that? "You were stronger than that," she whispered as she closed her eyes. She never should have doubted him. She had been wrong. They were both impossibly stubborn, but they never gave up; never gave up on one another.

She heard David retort, her eyes still closed. "Lust at first sight. Nothing more."

"Ancients found power in love; they found god in making love. To give yourself to another person set ya free. Exposed to everythin'… this ain't lust. It's holier than yer infatuation." She could barely contain her breath at his words as they consumed her body in warmth.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the enormous hawk that stood in front of her, one eye closed. To her right was a brown wolf and when she stared to look at it within a protective stance, she saw the penetrating blue.

"I refuse to feel shame." She declared, looking at the hawk. "I did nothing wrong when I moved on. I am guilty of no transgression for falling in love with another. I will not feel this way." She stopped, her mouth forming words that never came forth as she tried to force what she wanted to say from the back of her throat.

She found the words and spoke them slowly to David. "You mean nothing to me." There was a pause after every word, her eyes darkening in realisation as she stepped back; back towards the entrance as the rain outside of the opening, no, the exit began to fade into nothing. Light was breaking through.

A sound emanated from the bird's throat as it lunged to attack her, her backwards steps faltering in fear as the wolf jumped and held the bird to the ground. The animals struggled, sounds neither human nor animal radiating from their throats. One painful voice broke through and the wolf retreated from its prey, limping slightly as it came to Michaela's side, licking her hand while the hawk shook its feathers out. The hawk was injured, but not dead.

Whining slightly, the wolf nudged her towards the exit. As she closed her eyes, she broke reverie and began to move out towards the light.

The wolf had not killed the hawk. The wolf had not killed the hawk.

As they came to the exit, she heard the sound from the bird as if it was beside her ear. Turning she saw the creature press it's weight into the fur of her protector, the talons gripping into the skin before the fur began to stain with blood.

"No!" She cried out, her physical body sitting upright as she looked around. The hawk was gone; the wolf was gone; the blood was gone. Her mind slowly remembered where she was as she felt her heart beat freely against her chest.

The wolf had shown mercy. Even after what he had done. He wasn't a murderer. _Sully isn't David. Sully won't become David. They are not the same person._ She wasn't wrong to love him; it wasn't wrong. It couldn't be wrong. God, the Spirits, whomever held the world in control fated them to be together. _That is how he found me. That is how he knows me. I was afraid. I was so afraid. I was afraid I felt something that was wrong; that I had misinterpreted it. That it wasn't real. But it's real. It's pure. It's true._

"I love him," she whispered. "Sully. I had no control…" It was equally as frightening as it was invigorating.

Looking around her, she realised she wasn't sure when Cloud Dancing had left her. The skins were pulled tightly and she pushed the flap back to reveal the outside world. 

"Sully?" she called out. She had to find him. She had to see him and touch him. She had been so wrong, blinded by her own fear and insecurity. The sounds of footsteps brought her attention, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness that was night.

"Michaela?" he whispered, approaching her carefully. He had been nearby, waiting, thinking, hoping. There was a skin of water in his hands. "I'm here."

She smiled as he kneeled before her and she placed her hands to his cheeks. "That's what I said to you. Before you proposed."

He had never seen her eyes quite like this; clear, unburdened, loving. As a breath was quickly taken, he nodded and smiled. "Are you alright?" He felt her pull him in, and he followed but kept the flap open so they might see with the light of the moon. Reaching for the skin, she quickly drank the water to quench her physical thirst.

"Sully," she pulled the blankets around her shoulders tightly and reached for his hands. "I'm sorry."

"No," he interrupted her. "I gotta say somethin' first. I'm the one that's sorry." He bit his lip and looked at her. "I was so afraid you would leave. I doubted you. I'm sorry, Michaela. I never should've thought that. Please." He kissed her hands. "I never shoulda thought ya'd leave me 'cause I ain't Boston. And I'm sorry I didn't hold ya at the lean-to. I was… I was afraid that if I touched ya, I'd hurt ya; I'd rather die than hurt you, Michaela."

Her hand squeezed his, shaking her head as she looked at him. "No. I doubted you. I thought you would become like David. That I would ruin you. But… you're not David. And I never, _never_ should have been afraid of you."

"Afraid of me?" He was confused.

Licking her lips, she placed her hand upon his chest, over his heart. "I thought I was wrong. I didn't think that love should be so free. This isn't wrong. We're not wrong. I ran away from you, from the new homestead, from the idea of being with you because the past…"

She did not know how to continue. The skin slipped off of her shoulder and she smiled as she pulled it up.

"Do ya want my shirt?" he asked softly, trying not to grin at her embarrassment. When she nodded, he quickly took off his buckskin coat, followed by his shirt and promptly turned around so she could put it on in privacy. Staring outside, he felt warmth surround his heart. When her hand touched his shoulder, he smiled at her before he felt her lips come in contact with his own.

It was not the kisses he had felt so recently. It was as though they were back in the clinic after the wedding and they were stepping towards their passion with a careful curiosity. When their kiss finally broke, she leaned her head against his neck.

"You are my future. You always have been my future. You did not simply guide me home; you are my home." Her words were spoken in awe. "You will, won't you?"

"Will I what?" he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, afraid to let go.

"Will you marry me?"

He pulled back and looked at her. "You're my wife, now."

She shook her head. "No. Not quite. Marry me?"

"Here?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"Now?"

A smile tugged at his lips, worried that this was nothing more than a dream. But the warmth of her body under his hand told him it was truth. She had not left. "Are ya sure?"

"It's the only thing that I have ever been this certain of." The truth of her words was obvious in her eyes.

Clearing his throat, Sully, sighed and then looked intently into her eyes. "Michaela Anne Quinn, I take ya as my wife for the rest of my days. I ain't too good at words. But… I know that what we have is true and forever. I felt like… I was a fallin' star. But now… now, I have a constellation, Michaela. With you. I will always be there, livin' in your light. I'll be your husband forever. Ain't nothin' gonna change that. I ain't wastin' anymore time." He felt the tears creeping into his eyes, the emotional turmoil of the past few months weighing heavily upon him as he looked at his life with unspeakable love; as it resolved itself here and now. "Washington Irving said, 'there is a sacredness in tears. They speak more eloquently than one thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelmin' grief… and unspeakable love.' We're for always."

Closing her eyes, she smiled in wonder for his vows, letting a hand reach up to caress his cheek. The pain was gone, she was only aware of him. Nothing held her back, she knew him. She choked on her words. "Byron Sully, I take you as my husband until the end of time. I… I don't even know what to say now," she smiled at the irony of her being short on words; it wasn't lost on him. "I am here, right now. Where I want to be, where I am meant to be. I don't want to be anywhere but by your side. You know all of me, and I am not afraid of that. I'm not afraid anymore, because I am with you. There is nothing I want to hide from you. You're my soul mate. I don't think we can work without one another. I will never be alone, because I have your love. I am yours, only yours, for life."

Sully lowered his head and gently kissed her lips, sealing their fate. Wrapping his arms around, her, they gave into the desperate, passionate affection for several moments before they pulled away. She saw a small grin on his lips as he raised her left hand to his mouth, kissing gently. Looking around, he reached for his jacket, tore one of the leather fringes off and tied it around her ring finger.

"Will that do for now?" he asked, slightly embarrassed but her nod made it worth it.

"I love you, Sully."

"And I love ya, Michaela." Once again, their tired bodies met in a fervent kiss, seemingly making up for the time that had been stolen from them so often

"Thank you, Sully," she breathed. "Thank you for being my husband."

"C'mere," he whispered, settling down and pulling her into his embrace. "You'll always be my wife."

"Sully? Tell me a story?" She looked up into his intense gaze, which looked down upon her with a gentle softness.

Raising his head, he tightened his hold on her, stroking her hair as amusement claimed his features for her request. "Rest your eyes and I'll tell ya a story."

"Thank you."

"Once upon a time, there was a lonely mountain man," he started, noting the smile that crept over her face. "And he thought he was gonna be alone forever. And one day, he saw this prim and proper lady from a faraway city."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. City was called Boston. And she was the most beautiful woman he ever saw."

"What did she look like?"

He paused. "She was covered in mud." He smiled at her light chuckle. "One day, she had to go back to Boston and the mountain man was scared."

"Scared?"

"Yup," he smiled. "Scared 'cause he realised he loved her and it looked as though she wasn't comin' back. Ya see, he had almost lost her once before, to the influenza. So he went to Boston to bring her back home."

"How did he know that she would go with him?" she inquired, playing along with his game.

"He didn't. And he was scared 'cause when he got there… here was a man who was smittin' with her and the mountain man, well, he though she might've forgotten everythin' she had waitin' for her back home."

"What was this other man's name?"

He paused. "Dr. Snivel."

"Snivel?" she exclaimed, only half aware of what he was saying while she went over Sully's words in her mind.

"Yeah. He looked at everyone with this big ol' smile… makes ya wonder… But back to the story."

"Did she go home with the mountain man?"

"Are ya gonna keep interruptin'? Lemme finish." He cleared his throat playfully and pressed a finger to the tip of her nose. "Yeah. She went with the mountain man. Though he wondered why she left Fancy Ol' Boston to be with him." A smile crept over his lips. "He didn't know why, but he was mighty happy."

"I know the answer to that," she smiled. "And I am permitted to interrupt to tell you why she fell in love with the mountain man." He looked at her curiously, but conceded. "Boston… Boston doesn't define her. It was a part of her, yes. But it wasn't her. He became a deeper part of her. No one could ever take her away from him because… because she loved him. And that mattered more than anything Boston could ever offer."

"They were so in love. They're both awfully stubborn. But it works out 'cause they're too stubborn to give up. And that's what matters. One day, he asked her to marry him. And she said 'yep'."

"Did she?"

He paused, looking at nothing. "It was almost the happiest day of his life."

"Almost?"

"A hawk came and took her away from him. And he was so scared that she would want to go with the hawk. But he still searched for her. He wouldn't stop until he found her. And he did. And he was so scared that she was hurt. It took a long time for her t'heal."

"He saved her…" she whispered. "But he was patient."

"Yep. Then she asked him to marry her. And they were married. The trees served as their witnesses. Her fancy white dress was an ol' blanket wrapped 'round her legs and one of his old shirts. And her ring was nothin' more than a piece o' leather from his buckskin coat. But the words he said? His… his vows? He meant every word. Even though it weren't the fancy weddin' he knew she wanted… it was one of the happiest moments of his life." His eyes turned to look at her, seeing the fatigue that was obvious in her gaze, but it was merely background to the love that lived so fervently in her eyes. All of the enthusiasm she had for life; he had never brought himself to even predict the passion she felt in love, the immensity lingering in every kiss.

"Did you know she never looked upon a man as she did him?" Michaela whispered, locked into his gaze. "He was the first person who made her feel like she was as equally safe as she was exposed. And it turned out that she did not want the fancy wedding. She realised… she realised that she had it all. And she was proud to wear his shirt. And she was proud to have that strip of leather. And… it was one of the happiest moments in her life, as well." Tears brimmed over her lids and fell down her cheeks before she felt his full lips kiss them off of her cheeks.

"They lived happily ever after," he finished. "And we will, too. Now, go back t'sleep."

The couple walked towards the sweat lodge as dawn broke across the horizon. Snow Bird had a bowl with some food in it while Cloud Dancing held another skin with water. They did not speak and when they arrived at the structure, they were silent as she kneeled down to place the skin and bowl through the open flap.

She stopped when she was placing the bowl inside and smiled. Cloud Dancing looked down at her before kneeling to see what had caught her attention.

"Look," she whispered as she finished placing the two items on the floor of their friend's temporary haven. "Even in sleep, they cannot be apart. It is as if it is too painful."

He smiled as he saw what she was referring to. They both had their arms wrapped around one another, Michaela's head against his bare chest and Sully's chin tucked over her head. The blanket that covered Michaela's legs was still wrapped around her waist with an animal skin that only partially covered their sleeping forms.

Both had been oblivious to their morning visitors when they finally slipped back into consciousness. Sully stretched slightly as he became aware of the fact that Michaela was in his arms. She felt him stirring and slowly began to awake. He groaned softly as his eyes fluttered open.

"You awake?" he whispered, gently running his hands across her back.

"No." She closed her eyes tightly. "How many more times do you think that we will go to sleep like this?"

Chuckling lightly, he kissed the top of her head. "I dunno. How many more time do ya think you'll wear my shirt and a blanket when we fall asleep?"

A small laugh escaped her throat as she pulled back to look at him. "I like your shirt."

"I think ya look good." Moving to rest on one of his elbows, he looked out the flap before returning his attention back to her. "How d'ya feel?"

The question had so many different levels and she closed her eyes. "Good. Light. As if weight has been removed from my shoulders and a burden that clenched my heart is gone." Opening them, she found his smiling face and reached up to kiss him, letting her hands reach to tangle in his hair. He complied easily, feeling the same kisses from so long ago; the tentative gesture as they danced around their urges. It had been so long since they had let themselves give in. Michaela felt her heart press against her chest, the fear and worry lingering, but she could not let it matter. She didn't want to.

When their kiss finally ended, they were quietly trying to catch their breath. "So, is this what marriage is going to be like?" she whispered, letting herself smile at the beautiful blue eyes that consumed her. "This feeling of…" She wasn't sure.

"Better." He promised, reaching for her hand and kissing the piece of leather around her ring finger. "Dr. Quinn."

She said nothing for a few moments and when she did finally speak, her voice was soft. "The proudest day of my life was to become a Dr. Quinn. Just like my father. It was a lifelong dream of mine. I did not mean to insult you. I am not ashamed of you. But that was what I wanted to be for so long… the next Dr. Quinn. In practise, I will be his daughter. Legally, I will be his daughter and your wife. And with you?" She reached and kissed his reverently once more. "I will be only Mrs. Sully."

"Just as long as you're my wife, I don't care what I call ya."

"What about the children?" she asked, sighing as a smile came over her face. "What will we do? How will we make this work?"

His rubbed his hand over his chin, thinking. Details… everything had been so easy last night. "I figure ya wanna tell them?"

"Of course, I do not want to deceive them. But the town…" She looked down. "They won't understand."

He nodded, knowing that she was speaking the truth. The townfolk wouldn't understand; not something like this. He only barely grasped it and knew that if he thought about it too much, it would not make sense to him, to either of them. "So, we'll tell the children. Tell them… we eloped."

"Eloped? But they were so excited about the wedding…"

Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, he nodded. "We'll tell them we eloped. And that we'll have a reception once the homestead is finished."

"Sully…" She sat up, adjusting the blanket around her waist and looking to the ground before looking at him. "Please. I have no qualms about our marriage having occurred like this. And I don't want the wedding that Dorothy and Grace have been wanting. All I want is you." She reached to caress his cheek. "I am not ashamed."

"It'll be our secret." He sat up and reached for her hand, caressing it softly. "The town don't have to know. We'll have them keep it a secret. And I'll sleep in the barn with Matthew."

"The barn?"

"Ya know why." The impish smile crept over his lips, his eyes alight.

For several moments, she looked away, the blush creeping over her cheeks. When she turned her gaze back to him, she nodded. "A secret. No shame. It could be fun."

There it was. He saw it. The slight teasing, the hope, the desire for adventure. "There ya are. Knew you were still in there somewhere." He winked.

"Do you always know the outcome? Or am I merely becoming predictable?"

"If there's one thing you'll never be, Michaela," he said with a grin. "And that's predictable."


	9. Chapter 9

"Do ya think they're back yet?" Brian impatiently asked his older siblings. Matthew was driving the buckboard back to the homestead so they could work on their chores.

"I dunno, Brian. Maybe." Matthew looked at Colleen and raised his brows. "Hopefully, Dr. Mike's doin' better."

Obviously pouting, Brian crossed his arms. "Why did she haveta go do the lodge?"

Colleen sighed in frustration. "Brian, Dr. Mike has been real sad ever since… ya know… And Sully wants see if this helps. You want Dr. Mike to be happy again, right?"

Still maintaining the pout, he nodded. "S'not fair. Sully and Ma were happy before David came here."

"Don't worry, little brother."

When they came about the bend, Brian's pouting ceased. Sully and Michaels were sitting on the steps of the homestead, his arm around her shoulder as they played with their coffee cups. When the children arrived, they smiled and moved to greet them.

"You're back!" Colleen exclaimed, smiling broadly at her adoptive mother's evident mood change.

Michaela's obvious happiness was not lost on Brian either, who jumped into her embrace and held her tightly. "Ya ain' broken anymore!" he exclaimed. When she set him down, Brian immediately rushed towards Sully and proceeded to essentially tackle him as well. "Sully! You fixed her! You fixed Ma!"

Chuckling, Sully brought Brian up into his arms and grinned at the other two children. "I didn't do nothin', Brian."

Sniggering at the display of modesty, Colleen and Matthew proceeded to hug their essential mother in turn. It was at some point during this exchange that Colleen noticed Michaela's ring finger on her left hand.

"Ya got married?" She pointed at her hand, her bright eyes wide and turning her attention to Sully in search of an answer.

"Married?" Brian yelled, looking at Sully.

"What?" Was Matthew's response, staring at Sully in shocked confusion.

Sully looked at Michaela, a blush creeping over both of their cheeks along with the smile that was given only to one another. It was as if they were communicating with their eyes while the children waited in anticipation and curiosity as to the answer they would be granted. The silence lingered only briefly, the last parting kiss of their secret before the revelation was given.

"We would like to talk to you," Michaela began, carefully withdrawing her hand from Colleen's grasp and moving to stand beside Sully. "We know it sounds rather impromptu, but… well…" She wasn't certain how precisely to articulate this without it worrying the children. What would they think of them?

"You eloped, didn't ya?" Colleen interrupted the hesitant silence, her eyes bright with anticipation. When neither immediately answered, her hands flew to her cheeks. "You did!"

"But we wanted a weddin'!" Brian immediately complained, bypassing what had happened between his surrogate parents and moving to the more important matter at hand. "With food!"

Matthew watched in a curious silence, noticing that neither had confirmed it, but neither had denied it. In fact, the light in their eyes made the truth obvious.

"Listen," Sully intervened. "Yeah. We… we eloped. But it ain't that simple." Inner conflict was obvious as he reached for Michaela's hand and held it tightly. She reciprocated, holding onto it as if it was a lifeline.

"Does this mean Sully's gonna sleep at the homestead?" Brian shifted impatiently. "Can we have a pretend weddin' with cake?"

Sighing, Michaela shook her head. "We would like to have a reception after the homestead is finished…"

"When can we tell Mr. Bray?"

"Hey." Matthew placed his hand upon Brian's shoulder. "Give them a chance, okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Sully attempted to answer the questions. "The homestead will be finished in a few months. Once it's done, we'll tell the town. Brian," he turned his attention to the young boy. "Listen, this is… this is like a secret. It's special, just between us. As a family. Your Ma and me… we didn't plan to marry like this. And we want the town to be apart of the reception. But us gettin' married…"

Michaela intervened, saving him. "Brian. Do you recall how everyone began to interfere with the wedding for Horace and Myra?"

"Yeah…" he looked up at them.

"We wanted… we wanted our marriage to be just for us. The reception will be for the town. But we don't want to tell the town just yet."

"But Dr. Mike," Colleen intervened, pointing out the logical problem. "You have somethin' that looks like a ring."

"Are we s'posed to lie?"

This was not going as they had planned, but then again there had not been much of a plan when they decided this course of action. "If people ask us, we are going to avoid it. We do not want you to lie…"

"So, it's like a game." Brian decided. "We're going to see how long we can keep 'em guessin'! And do it without lyin'!" He paused. "There's still gonna be the reception, right?" He had to confirm it once more, despite the twice previous mention.

Matthew grinned. "I think it's… gonna be an interestin' couple o'months."

"So Sully is gonna be sleepin' inside?" Brian asked.

"Ahh… I don't… perhaps the barn…" Michaela stumbled over her words. How was it that the people who made her feel so exposed, the five total, that four of them were here at this moment?

Colleen looked up. She had been listening sympathetically, and even a bit amused. It was romantic, their eloping. And the fact that they were going to keep the truth a secret between the five of them made her feel as though it was a bonding experience. That she and her brothers were privy to the rare and beautiful love that these two people shared.

And it seemed like fun.

Blushing relentlessly, Michaela turned her head towards Sully and he kissed her forehead. "So that means you're... you aren't bothered... you're alright with it?"

"Yup." "Sure." "Reception?"

"Yes, Brian." Michaela turned and ran her fingers through his hair. "There will be a reception And there will be food. And a new dress." She looked up at Colleen. The girl grinned and threw her arms around her mother's neck.

As the boys filtered into the homestead, Colleen pulled on Michaela's arm. Noticing that the girl wanted to talk, she remained behind and looked at her softly. "I know that this is not what we had anticipated…" she began, looking down at her hands.

"No, but… I think it's kinda sweet, Dr. Mike. I'm happy for you."

She smiled. "Thank you. When we do have the reception, I would be honoured if you would stand by my side."

There was a kind silence between them as they reached for a tight embrace.

"I think," Colleen looked at her mentor with her careful eyes, dancing around the subject with the embarrassed care. "That if you're married, Sully should sleep in the house." She smiled softly, the blush feverishly consuming her face. "Until you can have your own room… maybe he could just make a bed by the fire?"

Michaela had not been anticipating that answer and the blush that crept over her face in a brilliant red attested to this fact. "I… I don't know."

"You should be with the one ya love." Before her surrogate mother could venture into the lecture that Colleen knew would come, she spoke. She knew Michaela attempted to secure the knowledge that she had not permanently corrupted the lives of the children by doing something against society. "And don't worry. You'll be at my weddin'."

* * *

The days that passed bringing them closer to the end of summer were comparatively uneventful. Sully had not spent the first night of their marriage at the homestead, but after that most of his nights passed by a mere arm's reach from Michaela's bed. The first night had been strange for the both of them; being so close to one another, but not actually being in the same bed. Brian quickly grew to love their circumstances, tackling Sully in the morning if the man had not managed to be awake before the boy. Brian had been curious as to why they weren't sharing a bed, and they just avoided the conversation. In order to prevent the child from giving away the secret, Michaela and Sully gave Brian incentives – candy, a book, and a new hat was the next prize. Sully helped more with the chores in the morning as they ate together as a family before he and Matthew went to work on the new homestead. Every few days Sully would take the day off to hunt or spend time with Cloud Dancing and the Cheyenne.

But every day he was around, he worked meticulously on his wedding present for Michaela in secret. The structure of the homestead was finished, with the individual rooms separated. The floors were not yet sanded, though. It was just a skeleton. But in what would be their bedroom stood a now nearly finished bed, painstakingly carved with sweat and love by Sully for Michaela.

It had felt strange at first. He had a family. Two sons, a daughter, and his wife. Despite the fact that they had dinner together so often before, it felt so different now. It was… home. Adjusting hadn't been incredibly easy, he would admit. He couldn't leave in the middle of the night, or he would waken someone. If he left early in the morning, he would worry Michaela. He found his solitude while working on the homestead in the silence that he was afforded with Matthew.

But the greatest sense of peace he had felt had come by the end of the first week during their "marriage."

_He heard her sighing in frustration, despite how quiet she tried to be. She was tossing and turning. Not that he could blame her – he was still awake. _

_Finally giving in, she opened her eyes and turned her head to gaze at his form, laying down beside the hearth as the low fire covered him in a gilded light. _

"_Can't sleep?" he whispered. At first she wasn't certain if he had indeed spoken; perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. But when he turned his head, she saw that he was still awake and she nodded in confirmation. _

"_I can't seem to get comfortable," she sighed quietly. Biting her lip, she let her gaze wonder to the separating sheet and then back to him. Bravely, she slipped out of the bed and let her feet land on the cool, bare wooden floor. Letting her toes drum against the wood, she took a deep breath._

_At first, he thought that he was dreaming. Then she stepped towards him and he knew he was dreaming. Turning so he was on his back, he felt the fabric of her nightgown as she settled onto the floor next to him. But then she did something that broke his reverie and forced him to acknowledge the fact over the believed dream – she was on her knees before him, as if waiting for his permission._

"_Ya know," he reached up for her elbow and drew her into his embrace. "Ya can ask me to hold ya." He was teasing her and they both knew it. _

"_Sully," she sighed, positioning herself against his shoulder. "I just feel… safe. Safe in your arms."_

"_I'll always wanna hold ya." He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her hair. "Right there. That's your place. And it's always there for ya. And you'll be safe."_

But she had already fallen asleep. And it began to happen more and more – she would sneak out of her bed after the children were asleep and curl up next to him until very early morning. Either she would waken herself or he would waken and put her back to bed before the children awoke and Brian announced the new day.

As for the town, well. The reaction had been anticipated, but that did not make it any easier to bear. Surprisingly, it had taken a whole six hours before Dorothy was constantly interrogating Michaela as to what happened. But Michaela had confirmed nothing and let her friend speculate as to whether they were married or not. Unfortunately, Dorothy mentioned her assumption to Loren. That had been a mistake.

The heckling from Hank and Jake was not a surprise either, but Hank had mentioned it didn't feel like a "real marriage" to him. Loren had his brows raised and stared at the couple every time they were together. But since neither would confirm the marriage, speculation ran its course heavily through the gossip. Michaela held her head high, secure in the belief she had done nothing wrong. Sully ignored them, secure in the knowledge that no matter what he said would be taken the wrong way so he just didn't say anything. Matthew and Colleen danced around the game, never actually lying. And when Brian had been asked by Loren what he knew, Brian's response was the best the children had heard so far, mainly because it threw everyone off.

"I'm plannin' the reception and there is gonna be chocolate cake!"

Sully had to admit that he was rather surprised at Michaela's resolve in their marriage. Granted, she was stubborn, strong willed, and reluctant to bend, but she had been so proud of their union. The embarrassment she felt in front of the children had begun to fade away, smiling contently. Matthew and Colleen had never questioned Sully sleeping on the floor; then again, it had been Colleen's idea. And he suspected that they knew she was sneaking to sleep with him. There was an embarrassed, but knowing smile behind their eyes. As secure as Michaela felt in her matrimony with Sully, the children felt that security and let it serve as the foundation for them to fall into the familial life.

* * *

Letting out a deep breath of air, Michaela smiled at Horace as she entered the telegraph office.

"Good morning, Horace."

"Mornin', Dr. Mike. Got yer mail here for ya." The small stack was handed to her. He smiled at her, the overeager grin that indicated he would probably inquire, as he had every time they had seen one another since the rumours surfaced.

"How is Myra handling the morning sickness?" She deterred him.

"Doin' better, but still awful. She said…" his voice lowered as he looked around to see if anyone was listening. "She said she wanted to eat dirt, Dr. Mike. That ain't… normal, is it?"

Grateful for the distraction, she gave him a reassuring smile as her eye caught a letter from Boston – Rebecca, however, and not her mother. Forcing herself to focus, she began to explain. "I have read about this before, Horace. They believe that it demonstrates anaemia in pregnant women. Send Myra by the clinic tomorrow and we'll go over her symptoms."

"Ann-ee-me-nia?" He stared. "Is she gonna be alright?"

It took much of her self control not to laugh, though the overprotective nature that could only be blamed upon his impending fatherhood was amusing at best. "Don't worry, Horace. It is not that uncommon in pregnant women. I'll see her tomorrow. Have a good afternoon."

She turned and left the telegraph office as she sighed in frustration. There had been no real letter from her mother since she had sent the telegram announcing her engagement. Actually, there had been. Two. The first had been sent prior to the announcement of their engagement while the second had requested her presence in Boston so that they could "discuss this matter properly." Less than ten words. Michaela had not told her mother about David. She believed that if she had, Elizabeth would have seen it as a sign that David was meant to be the husband of her youngest. She would have been in denial that he could have been capable of doing what he had, and would have accused her of over-exaggerating. It hurt. It hurt so much that Elizabeth wouldn't even pretend to be happy for her daughter.


	10. Chapter 10

His mind went over everything all of the steps of the process, swallowing nothing to hide his emotions. The plan had to be maintained, perfectly executed. There could not, for even one moment, be a weakness. He had not anticipated everything that had happened before. But he knew what to expect now.

Every possible scenario had to be gone over in his head, with two escape plans for each outcome. Even now there had to be at least one hundred possible scenarios that he had planned for. Many of them were written down in the beaten leather journal.

Within the journal were notes. Articles. Slips of papers that were pulled out when necessary. The current choice was not within the pages of the book, but strewn across the bed of the small room that he was renting from the boarding house. Even the slips of paper were part of the various scenarios.

The echoing sound of bubbles was the only noise that consumed the room as he continued to go over the potential chains of events. Boston. He could hardly tolerate Boston. Too many memories that left a bitter taste in his mouth. There were many places that now left a bitter taste in his mouth. But unfortunately, it was necessary to go back; back to what he could never truly be and pretend for a little while longer.

Shaving cream and a razor rested nearby for use. A woman was under the covers of the bed behind him. He could admit that she was beautiful. The copper-esque hair, the soft skin, the defined bone structure, even her multicoloured eyes. Beauty. Quick.

He could see her running through the world. Smiling, carefree, living.

_You should be dead. Do you realise this?_

Yes. I do. I should have died long ago.

_Answer this – what hurts you more? The fact that you did have done these painful things to her? Or the fact that she would have defended you, protecting you from crucifixion had you come to her?_

I did them because I had to protect her. She wouldn't have understood. They were never lies, merely omissions of fact. If I had gone to her before preparing myself to receive her love… it would have been lessened.

_Why are you playing these tricks? If you could have read her mind as if it was a journal, what do you think you would have found?_

I want to know what I put her through, for her to love me.

_Your own masochism makes you want to know what you did to her in Colorado Springs. Your own sadism is what makes you want the chance to find redemption in her once more. _

I do not understand what happened. I want to understand. I have to understand what happened to me. To her. To us. To the future that we could build together.

_That can be arranged. But do you recall how you found **her**? How she fought against you? Your strength surprised even yourself as you tore her clothing_.

Stop. I don't want to hear anymore.

_She screamed, you know. Beat her fists against your chest until you grabbed them and broke her wrists. She begged and pleaded for you to stop, but you didn't. You were her god, her own personal deity demanding worship._

I can't listen anymore. Stop this. It did not happen.

_Did it feel good, boy, to take her and make her feel as though she would amount to nothing? _

Make this stop!

_That's what she said! Right when you penetrated her and forced yourself between her soft thighs. The sheets are still stained with blood. Did you not take her pleasure into consideration?_

I cannot handle this anymore. It didn't happen like that! It didn't!

_You don't have the luxury of silence. She did not receive comfort during your ravishment. Why should I place a cessation on the assault of your mind?_

Make this stop!

_Did you find your redemption? Are you cleaned, now?_

I am rinsed… but not cleaned.

_Could she ever clean you?_

No. But I had to try.

_Control is not our strongest point anymore, is it?_ No, it's not. _We have to admit that we enjoy this part of it._ Yes, we suppose that we do. _Why do we think that is?_ Because we have control. We thrive on control. The pleading, the begging, the ineffectual need for her freedom. It's rather like playing God. And considering that he left us, me to rot without the potential light of redemption? It is easier.

A choking sound erupted from the basin as he hastily withdrew his head from the abyss that was womb of the water which cradled him. Coughing, spurting, and shaking the liquid from his face, he stared at the small cracked room within a single eye, the other closed out of habit. The voices silenced within the tragic confines of his mind, echoing within his ears. The water was the only place where he could hear his true thoughts clearly.

He decided not to shave – to serve what purpose, in all honesty? He turned his attention to the beauty on the bed, shaking his head as he looked at her.

"You were at my mercy, dear," he whispered. A hypocrisy. He had no mercy. "But you failed me. Michaela, you failed me. But you will see. I will make you see."

He packed up the papers with the name Leonard Hampton into his journal, which were filed away with other names: David Lewis, Andrew Strauss, Philip McKenzie, Arthur Vance, Rodolph Durante. Everything was meticulously packed up.

When the light of day broke through the room, there was a haze cast over the darkened bruises that glimmered over the soft skin. Her neck was twisted strangely. It appeared as if her tears were truly staining her cheeks, somehow having tinted the saline with pink.

There was no movement. There was no flicker under her eyelids to denote the movement of the two-toned eyes. There was no sound from her mouth to give way to air escaping.

There was no rising or falling of her now bruised chest.

There had been no movement for hours.

* * *

Sully pulled back and looked at the finished product. Their bedroom wasn't completely done yet, but he had finished sanding the floor the day before and just now finished moving the bed in. The fireplace was built, but the mantle was not, though this room was further along than the others. Against the wall was the bed, which would be resituated eventually, but would store for now. The mattress was in place and he threw three old blankets over the bed to protect the precious object beneath before leaving the house to find something in which to hold his stomach until dinner.

When Michaela arrived at the homestead, she felt a little better. The tears that she cried over the relationship with her mother were dried and while her eyes felt sore, she hoped that Sully wouldn't notice. The sounds from her shoes created a slight echo in the barren shell of a homestead that she knew would soon be filled with such love.

"Sully?" she called out, not seeing him on the first floor. But his horse was still outside, so she deduced that he was upstairs. Climbing the steps she began to look in the rooms for him, finally ending up in the main bedroom and found the sheets covering something that appeared to resemble a bed. Her brow came together in confusion and she walked towards it and pulled the blanket back to reveal the intricately carved headboard. A gasp of awe escaped her lips as she examined it, feeling her husband's love in every nuance that he had so painstakingly carved for their marriage bed.

Stepping closer to it, she drew one of her hands up to run over the textured surface, her fingertips memorising it with her touch as well as sight. "Oh, Sully," she whispered, aware of the still present leather strip around her ring finger.

When Sully saw Michaela's horse tied up outside, he smiled and entered the homestead. When he didn't see her, he went up the stairs just in time heard her murmur his name. As he entered the bedroom, he saw her awe-struck form caressing the headboard.

"It was s'posed to be a surprise," he said, breaking her reverie, to which she turned to stare at him. He knew immediately something was wrong; his brow furrowed and he moved to pull her into a tight embrace. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"Oh, Sully," she whispered, inhaling his scent as she hugged him tightly. "It's so beautiful."

"Hey," he pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "S'not supposed t'make ya cry. Now, what's makin' ya fret?"

Looking out the window to find the answer, she sighed. How could he read her so well? Her teeth caught her lower lip and she looked away from him, staring at the beautiful bed. She felt the blush as she thought about what they would eventually do in that bed. Unfortunately, he caught her chin and pulled her back to him, back to the present. Sully guided her to sit upon the bed, settling next to her before grasping both of her hands and kissing them.

"Whatever it is, Michaela… I'm here. And I'll help ya through it."

"No, Sully. I'm… okay." She stopped herself. "I won't lie. But I don't want to talk about it right now."

Sceptically, Sully looked at her but when she did not relent; he sighed and nodded before pulling her into his chest and caressing her cheek. "Promise me you'll talk to me when you're ready?"

"I promise." She nuzzled against his shirt, the light scent of sweat and wood combining with the scent that generally emanated from his being soothed her. How was it that after all of their recent trials – the railroad, the money, her name – they were still together like this?

Never being one to drink, Sully wondered if he wasn't addicted to her. And her eyes. He had seen the passion in her eyes becoming prominent once more, stepping towards the trust; closer than she had previously permitted herself. He hoped that nothing else would try to break her strength; it had been a difficult journey for her. For both of them. And when she had pushed him away, he had felt so helpless.

"How long do ya think we have before we need to head home?"

Closing her eyes, she sighed. "A while. Where is Matthew?"

His hand reached up to caress her hair, lulling her into a further sense of security. "Gone for the day. He's helping Ingrid with something. Won't be at dinner tonight."

Michaela opened her eyes just barely, seeing the room darken as a result of the clouds. "Is it going to storm? And thank you for staying at the homestead."

"Nah, the clouds'll just pass over us. And I don't mind," he smiled and moved to kiss her lips. "I like fallin' asleep in the same house as my wife. And sleepin' on your blankets. And when ya sleep in my arms. Actually, love all of that."

Chuckling lightly, her cheeks still flamed, she responded to him. "Yes. I sleep better when you are nearby. I feel safer. And your heartbeat. Your heart." She placed her hand over his chest and felt the gentle rhythm.

"That's 'cause ya belong in my arms. Just like this. Me holdin' ya, you holdin' me." He felt her relax further into his embrace and she closed her eyes when he began to massage her temples. "Never thought ya to be so…sneaky."

"Sneaky? That is a word that has never described me before." Her lids opened to look upon him, the love in her eyes as bright as the sun that was lighting the tops of the trees that covered them. With only a brief pause, she reached up and kissed his lips.

"Ya dressed up like a man before. That's sneaky, ain't it?" He would have continued, but she distracted him quickly.

She never could understand the freedom that she felt in his touch. Embarrassed as she was to her body's own physical reactions to him, he never made her feel ashamed; indeed, he made her face the truth, that it was natural, it was pure. It wasn't even a question of defying her Boston upbringing; it was simply love. Pure, unadulterated, simple, beautiful devotion. The desire to be near him as the moon chases after the sun.

Her lips opened to accommodate his tongue, to which Sully quickly gave into his own wants and gently, slowly made their kisses more intimate. A sound of pleasure escaped her throat, and she pulled away in embarrassment, but he kissed her once more, with more love, to reassure her. And she felt reassured.

Pulling her closer, one of his hands caressed her neck, his fingers tangling into her hair as the second wrapped firmly around her waist. Her own hands began to gently explore his body; one to his neck, running along the collarbone, while the other wrapped around his shoulders. Her fingertips pressed into the hardened muscle of his back. When one of her fingers caressed a particularly sensitive point on his neck, he softly moaned.

Attempting to pull back to reality, she breathed heavily when she broke their touch, looking out the window.

"It's getting' darker," he whispered, giving her an out.

"And darker." Her voice was heavy with something that he hadn't quite heard before. He was her husband. Her wonderful, patient husband; no matter who had said the vows or dictated the ceremony. _What am I saying? What am I thinking? I can't do this. But why can't I? He is my husband…_ That was when she paused. _I want to do this not because he is my husband. It's so much more simple; I want this because I love him._

"Michaela?" The pause made him nervous. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she reached up to caress his cheek and pulled him impossibly close.

The only thing that they became aware of was one another. He was loving, tender, gentle in his caresses while she gave in. Overcoming her fears, they guided one another, memorising skin that had previously been denied while their hearts beat impossibly hard against their chests. The panic had eventually been kissed away and they gave in. At the initial fusion of their bodies, Sully clung to her, waiting for her, both of them overwhelmed. When she was ready, he worshiped her body with his hands and mouth and being while she gave into the sensations he was creating within her on so many places, making love to him with her hands, mouth, body and mind.

Lost in their world, they only knew the other. Moving, clinging, he reached for her hand and clung to it until the pinnacle of their consummation crashed around them in a blinding combination of emotional and physical pleasure that surrounded them.

Their bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat, they embraced to one another as their single soul broke in half to return to their physical bodies once again.

"Michaela?" he whispered, his eyes closed as his swollen lips simply trailed over her forehead. It was a dream, it had to have been a dream, but she felt so real.

Her multicoloured eyes opened and looked up at him, shaking as one of her hands reached up to push back his damp hair from his face. "Sully? I… I didn't know…" Lost for words, overwhelmed at the physical pleasure he brought her in conjunction with the emotional revelation that seemed to physically weigh down on her heart, she gasped for air and words.

"I didn't know, either…" he whispered back, opening his intense blues eyes that looked at her differently, saw her with more love. Her eyes glistened with tears, one escaping and trailing down her cheek. His hand came up and the rough, calloused pad of his thumb wiped it away. "You're cryin'? I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" The worry that he had hurt her strangled his heart and he felt ashamed.

Reaching up to touch his cheek, she shook her head. "No. Don't apologise. Please, I just feel so… complete…" she saw his eyes glazed over with panic before pulling him down for a gentle kiss. "But… but you've… before…"

Kissing her face softly, he shook his head. "Never like this. I didn't know." Finally sliding his body off of her, he immediately reached for her and clung to her tightly, afraid to let her go. One of the forgotten blankets was tucked around their bodies as he slowly rubbed her arm. "Michaela?"

Dazed, she clung to him as tightly as he clung to her, running her hand over his shoulder. "Hmm?" Furrowing her brow, she realised that there were five crescent indentations on his shoulder. Reaching for the hand that was rubbing her arm, her mouth opened shocked.

He looked down to see what she was looking at and chuckled – his hand had five crescent circles from where she had clenched his hand. "I'm sorry… I just felt… overwhelmed." The crimson blush consumed her cheeks as she dropped her chin to her chest, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"You were… you…" Feeling embarrassed a bit himself, he chuckled and pulled her tightly against him once more.

"I didn't know… that…" Sighing, she snuggled against him. "Sully? I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll always love ya. Every day, I love ya more than that day before." Kissing each of her eyelids, he tucked his chin over her head as they continued to caress one another. "Michaela? I'm gonna keep ya."

A slow smile crept over her lips as she inhaled his scent, _their_ scent. "Sully? I'm going to keep you, too."

"No regrets?"

Smiling, she shook her head. "Only that we waited so long."

* * *

"Ma?" Brian's voice interrupted her thoughts. She cleared her throat and attempted to focus on him, attempting to wipe the ridiculous smile off of her face but failing miserably. The spoon from making dinner was held over the skillet as she looked at Colleen, who was reading, and Brian, who was seated at the table.

"Yes, Brian?" She brushed the cloth over her hands.

"When's Sully comin' home?" He looked longingly at the checkerboard. Colleen was refusing to play with him and he sighed.

"Ah… he should be home soon, Brian." Turning her attention back to the stove, she had heard him enter and was afraid to look at him. Would Colleen notice? But she could feel his gaze penetrating her back and she gave her half smile. Husband.

"Sully? Will you play checkers with me 'til dinner?"

Shaking his head, he looked at Brian and nodded. "Sure. Can I greet your Ma, first?" Brian's enthusiastic response made Sully and Colleen smile before he stepped towards Michaela as she turned to finally look at him.

They stared at one another, seemingly forever but the children noticed nothing out of the ordinary. They saw each other for all that they were – their strength of passion, hope, desire to do the right thing, the love that was such a rare find that they often wondered if they weren't somehow living in an overwhelming dream; their fault of stubbornness, differences. Their attempts to keep control over their lives and emotions while simultaneously giving into the whirlwind that they had no control over; their very existence in one another's lives.

Closing her eyes and dropping her chin, she smiled and blushed before stepping towards him and giving him a kiss. It lingered longer than normal and somehow breaking it seemed so much more difficult than before for both of them.

"Hello," she whispered.

"Missed you, too." He murmured into her ear, giving her a lingering touch before settling down at the table near Brian. "Alright, Brian. Your move first."

"Sully?" Colleen smiled at him, letting her book rest against the table. "I thought ya'd like to know… Hank is takin' bets."

"Bets? Again?" He moved his black checker.

"Yeah. About you and Dr. Mike."

Sully looked at Michaela knowingly. "This is the third one, ain't it?"

Giggling lightly, she grinned at Brian, who seemed equally amused. "Fourth!" Brian corrected, moving the red checker.

"What is it this time, Colleen?" Michaela asked as Sully caught her stealing a glance at him as she pulled down the dishes for dinner.

Blatantly rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Well, he's guessin' when you an' Sully are gonna announce your elopement."

"If the town knows," Brian looked up, skipping over one of the black pieces. "Can't we just tell 'em?"

"I don't wanna tell them, Brian," Colleen sighed. "I think that we should just keep makin' 'em guess! It's been fun."

"I thought we was gonna tell 'em at the reception?" The boy looked confused.

Intervening, Sully looked at both of the children. "I reckon… if ya kids want to tell 'em, it's your choice. But the point is, Brian, that they still don't know for sure. And it's kinda funny."

The rare impish grin of Michaela's shone through as she shook her head at the conversation before her.

"If I don't tell nobody before the reception, can I have three pieces of cake?"

"If you can make it that long, Brian," Colleen smiled at him. "I'll make ya a cake of your very own!"

The dinner conversation was kept light and the children noticed a deepened love between their adopted parents, but seemingly suspected nothing. Yet it felt like hours before the children were preparing for bed. Matthew had poked his head in to say good night before retiring to the barn. Michaela had looked at the pillow and blanket that were normally on the floor for Sully for a long time as he told Brian a story and the children settled in to bed. When he entered the main room, he noticed the door ajar and Michaela no where to be found.

Poking his head out the door, he saw her sitting on one of the chairs on the porch, lost in her thoughts. A grin claimed his lips and he walked towards her, sitting in the chair next to her before reaching for her hand and kissing it. Turning to look at him, her eyes filled with love, she let a smile creep over her cheeks, saying nothing.

"Ya okay?" He blushed slightly, feeling young just then. When she nodded, he looked up at the night sky and then pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap. "There we go."

Chuckling, she situated herself so she was comfortable and eventually, with Sully leaning the chair back against the wall and both of them resting their feet on the railing, she was resting nearly completely on top of him in a strangely comfortable horizontal position.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing his lips against her copper hair while his hands held her firmly against him, closer than he normally would have.

"And I love you," she sighed happily, breathing in his unique scent. They shared a few brief moments of silence before she let her hand softly draw hieroglyphics across the fabric of his shirt over his chest until she abruptly stopped.

"Mmm," he sighed, nuzzling her head. "That felt good. Why'd ya stop?"

Biting her lip, she looked down. "I… it doesn't matter."

He furrowed his brown and squeezed her. "What's wrong?"

Pursing her lips, she blushed despite the fact he could not see. "I just wish we were in the new homestead already," she breathed out in a rush.

After deciphering what she had sped through, he grinned. "Three more months, maybe sooner." He could sense her struggling with something and he forced her to turn and look at him, his calloused fingers caressing her chin as he caught her mesmerising gaze and looked into the depths that revealed her soul. "I… I'm lookin' forward to it, too."

"I'm so foolish," she blushed, trying to turn away but he prevented her. "Sully? About today…"

He was worried but tried to hide it. "Michaela, I…"

"No. It's just…"

They both laughed at their inability to produce coherent sentences.

"It's just me, Michaela," he reminded her. "It meant… it meant a lot to me. The world."

"Yes," she whispered. "It meant so much…. I just…" She pressed her lips. "I hope you were pleased."

He let a smile threaten his cheeks before reaching down awkwardly to kiss her. "I kinda hoped ya noticed." Letting his shoulders sag, he nodded. "Michaela, you were perfect." He stopped for a moment, his brown furrowing. "You… you were pleased? I mean…" The first time with Abigail had not been the most pleasant experience – he had been young, they both had been so nervous, both inexperienced, they'd fumbled through it. The worry was obvious on his face.

The blush that had remained deepened. She pulled his hand and held it in front of his face. "I had kind of hoped you had noticed," she indicated to the slight crescent bruises that still remained.

It was his turn to feel embarrassed and he threw his arms around her. "I'll do whatever ya want me to do, Michaela."

"Just love me," she sighed, trying to fight the sleep that wanted to claim her body.

He had hoped that she had understood his underlying meaning, and considering her answer, he assumed she had. But when she began to settle against him similar to sleep, he looked down and saw her starting to give into the night. Carefully, he managed to stand up with her in his arms.

"Sully?"

"Bedtime," he whispered as they entered the homestead.

He gave her privacy to change and when she indicated that she was dressed for bed, he turned and smiled at her while she yawned.

"Hmm?" She sighed lazily. Sully grinned and pulled her into his arms before settling her on the bed and curling up next to her, spooned against her back. She had fallen asleep before he had even brought the covers up to envelop them.


	11. Chapter 11

The streets of Boston were even busier than he recalled as he walked up the roads towards Beacon Hill. When he finally arrived at the Quinn household, he knocked gently and waited patiently. The hat covered his hair and the scarf around his neck managed to shadow his face. Weeks of spying had led him to this moment, noting the Quinn household in its schedules and gossip. Never had his name graced the lips of a servant while he was hiding in the darkness.

Harrison opened the door. "Can I help you, sir?" he was cordial.

"Yes, I am here to see Mrs. Quinn. Is she by chance available?" His voice sounded a bit strange. Within the pocket of his coat, he clenched his fist once, twice, three times.

With a nod, the butler replied. "Yes, she is. May I ask whom is calling?"

"Well," he hesitated. "It is a surprise. It has been years since I have seen her and I would appreciate it if I could surprise her." He looked up and gave a fleeting smile to the butler.

The butler pondered the request. The man was dressed nicely enough, and if it was to be a surprise, Mrs. Quinn would no doubt be happy. Ever since Michaela's announcement of her engagement to Mr. Sully, his employer had been temperamental when the topic was brought up. And Maureen and Claudette seemed to thrive on mentioning it.

"Permit me to guide you in, sir. You… do appear familiar." He smiled and nodded his head slightly before taking the coat, hat and scarf and guiding him towards the parlour.

"Who was at the door, Harrison?" Elizabeth's voice called out when she heard the footsteps behind her. The door shut to the parlour and she furrowed her brow at the lack of response. "Harrison?"

"It has been a long time, Mrs. Quinn," he was polite, smiling, and he walked towards her, guiding himself into line of sight.

A look of confusion was on her face and she looked at the guest. "I apologise, but do I know you?"

There was a nod and he pulled his hair out of his eyes. "I spent much time here with you. I know that I do not look the same. I was injured in the war and it severely affected how I look, and how I talk."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped briefly in shock before slamming shut, letting herself dare to believe.

"David?"

He nodded, a slow grin claiming his face. He watched as she slowly let her face crawl into a beam and laughed at her obvious enthusiasm.

"Oh, David! It's a miracle! I thought you were dead!"

"It is a very long story, Mrs. Quinn. But the point is that I am back. I am alive."

She reached for his hand and gripped it slightly, the pleasure obvious on her face. "Oh, David. Your timing is phenomenal. Have you seen Michaela?"

Smiling, he nodded. "Yes. I just came from Colorado Springs." It was a lie and it flowed from his lips easily. "I wanted to talk to you about her."

"She is engaged to that… mountain man, Sully." There was a bitterness and lack of understanding in her voice as she shook her head. "We have barely spoken since. I haven't heard from her since her letter a few months ago. I wonder why she hadn't told me that you were alive…" A frustrated sigh escaped her lips and she looked at him. "You seem quite pleased."

"You haven't heard. I wondered if she would keep the secret. I am pleased that she did." He was incredibly pleased. How could he have been so lucky? "You see, Michaela is not engaged to Mr. Sully any longer. We have decided that we want to marry."

The delight on Elizabeth's face could not be denied, so he continued with his façade.

"She wanted to surprise you. She doesn't know that I am here, now. I was hoping that, well… we were going to wait until spring to marry. But if you could convince her to come to Boston now? We could be married before the end of next month! But you have to be able to convince her to come without her knowing about the wedding. She was concerned of what you might think of her – going from being engaged to Mr. Sully and then back to me. The gossip, the hope for your approval. She was quite upset by all of it. That's why she did not want you to know right away. But I knew, Mrs. Quinn. I knew that you would understand."

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "That is a fantastic idea! How much fun! We could have everything planned for when she arrives. Shall we tell her sisters? No," she shook her head. "We won't tell anyone. And then we'll have a large reception!"

He tried not to let his contentment be so obvious, but it was so hard. She mistook the beaming as his content to have his life back together once more.

"Oh, David. You simply must tell me what has happened. And we won't tell a soul!"

Getting himself comfortable, he nodded, stopping his story only when Martha or Harrison entered, in which he kept mum and Elizabeth did, too. He mentioned Andersonville, the recovery, though he left out Michaela's reaction and offered what were obvious discrepancies to the truth, had she known the truth to begin with.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

Nodding, he smiled. "My mother passed on, and my father is in England, but I could not stay there. He is not aware of what has come to pass and I would rather him to know before returning to his household. I have a room in a boarding house. I prefer it."

"I will get Michaela up here. I promise. I will pretend to know nothing of your engagement and act as if she is still marrying Mr. Sully."

* * *

Weeks passed to bring school and the beginnings of fall. Sully and Michaela's relationship remained in good terms, contently settling into their "married life" though there was the occasional disagreement and the battle of wills. Brian, Colleen and Matthew enjoyed the feeling of having both a mother and a father again, only Brian making comment about the fact that they now shared a bed – though it was a positive comment.

The town only occasionally reared with rumours; when it became obvious to Hank that Michaela had no pregnant belly to justify the unconfirmed elopement, he had lost money on the betting pools. Then again, Hank had suspected that their marriage was more "real" now, and he constantly poked fun at the two of them until Loren properly slapped him upside the head with a verbal barrage that would have inspired many. But for the most part, the gossip had died down and whatever the situation was at the homestead remained unconfirmed, unchanging, and therefore, uninteresting.

Michaela and Sully's physical relationship continued in stolen moments, though never in the homestead bed at night. With only a sheet separating them from the children, there had been an unspoken agreement between the couple to not tempt fate. Instead, they pocketed their moments of happiness at the homesteads when they were alone, and even a few times at the lean-to. If anyone had noticed, with the exception of the gossip queens to be found in Hank and Jake, no one had made a public comment; after all, much of the town had assumed it had happened already. There were even a few critics who believed that they had been together long before.

Sully walked up to the clinic, the bundle of mail in one hand and a small bundle of flowers in the other. Knocking on the door, he waited for her to invite him in before entering the clinic. After a few moments, she hadn't responded and he entered the clinic to find her asleep at her desk. She had been busy the last few weeks, even making herself sick again, so he wasn't as surprised as he should have been.

Gently placing his hand upon her shoulder, he looked at her softly and kissed her forehead.

"Hmm?" she tried to wake up, looking around the clinic. "Sully." She spoke his name for the sake of saying it, smiling as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Ya need to rest," he said, rubbing her arm. "Been wearin' yerself to the point of bein' sick again. Thought ya learned your lesson this last spring."

She smiled and closed her eyes, leaning against him. "Yes, but when I was sick in the spring, I had received the care of one Doc Sully. And I slept in his arms all night." She smiled fondly.

He reached for her hand and kissed the leather band on her finger, which had been joined by an engagement ring a few weeks prior. "Now ya get to sleep with me almost every night. Though I might haveta find this Doc Sully fella." The flowers were pulled forth from their hiding place behind his back.

"And you know that I have been sleeping at the homestead. I'm just… I will be fine, Sully. Once this run of chicken pox is done. I cannot believe three adults contracted it." She sighed and buried her head into her hands, but when she saw the flowers, she smiled appreciatively, kissing his hand in thanks.

"No excuse for ya to not be eatin' right." He pointed out.

"I've been trying," she countered, sighing once more before scanning what was in the mail pile. "One I have Mrs. Brandae, Miss Roger and Mr. Phillips recuperated fully, perhaps I'll be able to…" Her voice trailed off. A letter from Boston. "Mother?"

"Yer ma?" Sully looked down in concern at the letter as she picked it up. He knew that the relationship between his wife and her mother was very strained at best in the recent months. The fact that Michaela had not told Elizabeth about their marriage had frustrated him some, but the conversation had been recent and short lived in reaction to her ill health. He felt as if she was ashamed; she felt as if her mother might die from the news. Eventually, they had managed to come to an agreement – Elizabeth would not understand, but they would tell Elizabeth that they had eloped at some point after the reception took place.

He watched her expression as she skimmed the contents, which grew from surprise to confusion. "What's it say?"

"She would like me in Boston by… is that a six or an eight?" She pointed to the number for Sully to look at and he shrugged. "It has something to do with our engagement. How strange that she doesn't mention…"

"What?"

Looking at him, she blinked. "She doesn't mention you. In fact, she merely refers to the wedding. But never your name."

Sully looked over her shoulder and skimmed the letter, which she moved so he could read it, but he discovered that he couldn't read the elaborate handwriting easily. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. "What's she want ya in Boston for?"

Michaela shook her head. "All she has written is… 'something to do with your wedding.' It could be," she paused to speculate. "An engagement party? Something to do with the wedding itself? A dress?" Struggling to think of anything logical, she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her neck. Sully took over massaging it for her, attempting to focus.

"Do ya wanna go?" he looked at her a bit apprehensively. It wasn't that he hated Boston; he would merely prefer a dinner with General Custer over a plate of bugs.

That was the question of the hour. "I do not like the idea of taking the children out of school this year. Brian struggled to catch up last time, and Colleen is focusing so much. Matthew would refuse to leave Ingrid for such a long period. And I don't want to leave the clinic…"

He sensed it. "But?"

"But," she hesitated. "It would be nice to see my sisters once more. And… and I suspect that she should be told that there is no longer a wedding, but a reception. That is something I would prefer to tell her in a letter, but I ought to do in person." Biting her lip, she shook her head. "Though I doubt she will understand our decisions and actions."

Kneeling beside her, he rubbed his hands over her back. "So let's go to Boston."

"Us?" She raised a brow, admittedly surprised. "As in… you and I? How long were you in the sun today, Sully?"

"Yup. You and me. I ain't gonna leave ya to tell your Ma all by yourself." He gave a cheeky grin. "You'd haveta divorce me for bein' so cruel. We'll tell her, I'll be there for ya. And maybe…" His eyes looked up at her, amorously, the glint of humour behind his intense blues.

Leaning down, she curled a lock of hair behind his ear. "Maybe…. What, Mr. Sully?"

"Maybe you and me could finally get that marriage certificate." He sighed.

"Oh." She did not intend to sound so disappointed.

Grinning, he kissed her softly. "And maybe," he breathed. "We can try havin' that honeymoon."

Biting her lip, she nodded. "I would like that. But… the homestead?"

His mind worked around the calculations, looking at the letter and attempting to read the smudged date that Elizabeth wanted Michaela there by. "I reckon if I give Matthew the list, and I work real hard the next two weeks, when we get back we can move into the new homestead. And the whole world'll know that Michaela Quinn is my wife."

"You would return to Boston for me?" She asked.

"You're the only one I'd go t'Boston for, Michaela." He smiled. "But if we're gonna make it by the sixth, I'm gonna haveta get back to work." Kissing her deeply, he exhaled before finally breaking the kiss. "You get some rest, get some food." He hesitated.

She smiled, a blush creeping over her cheeks. "My patients are stable. If no emergency arises, will you… will you be able to make time for me?"

Her blush made him smile, though he prevented himself from chuckling. "Michaela?" He kissed her softly. "Remember what I told ya? I appreciate your enthusiasm. And I'll always have time for ya."

* * *

"Why d'ya haveta go?" Brian pouted, staring at the food on his plate while the family sat around the table. "Without us? We wanna go!"

"Brian!" Colleen exclaimed, sighing as she shook her head.

Clearing his throat, Sully interjected. "Brian, your Gran'ma wants t'see your Ma. And ya can't miss school."

"But," Brian sighed. "She'll be gone a long time. Last time, we kept puttin' off comin' home and I don't want ya to be away for so long."

"Think of it this way, Brian," Matthew spoke up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Sully's gonna go with her. How long do you think they'll last?"

The whole of the table chuckled as Sully reached for Michaela's hand and gripped it gently. His eyes spoke of the love that he felt for her and she smiled in response. "Matthew'll watch over you and Colleen."

"As will half of the town," Colleen smiled. "I think it's excitin'."

"And…" Michaela began.

"What?" Brian bounced slightly in his seat before reaching to gulp his milk.

"And… when we get back from Boston, we'll have the reception."

"Yeah!" Brian exclaimed.

Matthew nodded. "Dependin' on how long ya wait to come back, we might be able to move everything into the homestead with Robert E to help."

"That would be wonderful," Michaela smiled. She pushed her food around on the plate some more, eyeing her bed in distraction.

Watching in concern, Sully stared at the plate. She wasn't eating. He would make sure that she had some bread after the children were asleep and make her get some rest.

"I will bring you back some new clothes," she had promised, the dark circles under her eyes more accentuated than he had previously noticed.

"Your Ma needs sleep," he whispered towards Colleen.

"Brian and me'll clean up, Dr. Mike. Why don't ya get ready for bed?"

Not even bothering to object, Michaela nodded and stood up quickly. She clutched the side of the table as her eyes closed. Sully reacted immediately as he jumped up from his chair and she fainted into his arms.

Colleen rushed to retrieve the smelling salts from Michaela's medical bag and shortly, Michaela was revived.

"Go t'sleep, Ma," Colleen whispered, nodding for Sully to get her into bed.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked Colleen after settling Michaela to sleep.

Shrugging her shoulders, the young woman sighed. "Ya know how she gets. Works too much. I think Boston might do her some good. Get her away from the clinic." She looked at Sully a bit embarrassed. "You two can spend time together."

He let a smile tug at his lips. "Thanks, Colleen."

* * *

"Mornin'." Sully called out as he approached Cloud Dancing outside of his teepee.

"Ah-ho," Cloud Dancing rose his hand in greeting before clasping the upper forearm of his friend with Sully reciprocating the action. "How are you?"

Nodding, Sully smiled and they began to walk away from the tribe and towards a more secluded area. "I'm good. And you?"

Cloud Dancing smiled and shook his head. "I am doing very well. But I suspect that you are doing much better, my friend."

"Hmm?" Sully had been distracted by a sound and as he turned his attention back to Cloud Dancing, he heard his friend chuckling. "What?"

Looking away, he hesitated briefly before looking at Sully with a raised brow. "We have known each other for many years. You cannot hide much from me."

Swallowing, Sully looked around. "I'm hidin' somethin' from ya?"

There was a silence between them. Then the Indian spoke.

"Does she show enthusiasm?"

Sully was never one to blush but the statement definitely had not been what he was anticipating. Not even attempting to speak, he took a deep breath and merely stared at Cloud Dancing while his friend found amusement in his brother's reaction.

"That ain't fair," he finally said, after much silence.

"Do not worry. I understand. The Spirits performed your ceremony. But even then, you did not partake in the ancient joining until much later." Nodding, he continued. "I do not question this. The Spirits wanted it this way."

Sully merely nodded, still embarrassed and rather ashamed that he hadn't told his Cheyenne brethren. "I've never been this happy," he confessed.

Cloud Dancing looked up to the sky, then to the ground, then to Sully. "Will the people of the town understand?" He inquired.

"No."

"But she wanted this. She knew it would be difficult." These statements were that – statements. Not questions. "I am happy for you. The Spirits are grateful, too."

"I'm worried 'bout her, though," Sully looked at Cloud Dancing. "She's been sick. Anxious and not eatin'. Not sleepin' right. And now… we're goin' t'Boston. And we're gonna tell her Ma."

Cloud Dancing stared at Sully for a long time, understanding precisely what the man was attempting to convey without actually articulating any antagonism against his wife's family.

"This will be difficult."

"Do the Spirits have any advice for me?"

Shaking his head, Cloud Dancing gave a nervous chuckle. "No, my friend. The Spirits say that you must fight this battle on your own. But remain strong. The Spirits work in strange ways. Remember – the bad has to happen, my friend. Only when we have seen the worse will we be able embrace the happiness, and appreciate the gifts from the spirits."

Sully's head shot up and he looked at Cloud Dancing with frightened eyes as his stomach dropped down to his knees. "Ya told me that. Ya told me that before. Don't tell me I'm gonna lose Michaela…" He reached for Cloud Dancing's shoulders and stared at him, fright apparent as he tried to contain his greatest fear.

"No," Cloud Dancing shook his head. "I did not mean that. But I cannot control the Spirits." There was silence between them. "You have not told her yet, have you?"

Shaking his head, Sully sighed. "I wanted her t'know before… before… now, ain't a good time."

"I think it would be better for her to know before you arrive in Boston. The longer you wait, the greater the breaking of trust."

Nodding, Sully sighed and followed Cloud Dancing without thought. His heart was still heavy, his body still recovering from the fear, but now the plague of guilt that had been ignored was started to eat slowly away at his stomach.


	12. Chapter 12

They were two days away from Boston as Sully watched Michaela sleeping on the pulled down bed of their sleeper car. He loved watching her sleep; it made his heart want to reach out to protect her when she was so beautiful, so vulnerable. He kneeled down beside the bed and ran his fingers through her soft hair before adjusting the blanket that was covering her.

_At least she's sleepin'_, he thought to himself. In addition to the stress that had begun to physically affect her the few weeks before, two weeks after receiving the letter it still hadn't subsided and now she had been experiencing motion sickness throughout the whole of the journey. She had explained it was common, though it was the first time that she had ever experienced it so badly. She had even mentioned at one point that there was a chance she had developed an ulcer from the stress. That had worried him further and since then he had taken it upon himself to make this journey as stress-free as possible.

Though he would admit that once they arrived in Boston, things would hardly be easier for her.

The sickness that he felt in his own stomach was not from motion sickness. It wasn't that he hadn't intended on hiding it from her; he had planned to tell her at some point. Should the situation arise. He had never intended for them to be married when he told her. But after what David had done, and the breaking of trust that had occurred, he had been weary of telling her. She had been emotionally fragile. Then they had married, and there was no time. The guilt had been eating away at him.

He was starting to wonder if one could develop an ulcer from a secret literally eating away at their insides.

Michaela made a slight sound before her eyes fluttered open. "Sully?" she whispered, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

"Hey," he smiled and moved to help her sit up. "How're ya feelin'?"

Shaking her head, she leaned against him. "I think I would like to try and eat some bread. Do we have any from last night?"

He nodded and reached for the roll that they had brought with them from the dining cart and handed it to her. "Did ya get a good sleep?"

"Yes." She smiled at him before eating the bread. Her father was the only man she had ever permitted to take care of her in this way; it made her feel loved to have Sully doing it for her now. "I am sorry about falling asleep so early last night. You wanted to talk to me about something?" Her eyes looked at him intently.

Nodding, Sully looked at the covered window for a few moments. They had come back to their compartment after an early dinner and had given themselves to one another. When Sully had gone to find some bread for her unsettled stomach, he had returned with the intent of telling her. But she had fallen asleep and he could not bring himself to wake her peaceful form. Instead, he had held her.

"I need t'talk to you, Michaela."

The seriousness in his eyes made her feel anxious and she was grateful that she had the bread to chew on in order to hide it. She felt bad that their journey had been dampened by her illness. And now, now something was wrong. She could feel it.

He struggled over the words, occasionally stopping as he tried to think of how to say what he intended to. His hand reached for hers and held them, as if afraid to let go. Finally, the anxious silence was interrupted as he blurted it out.

"I was in the army."

The silence was deafening. Each second that passed as a second too long, and she stared at him, numbly.

Deciding to continue, he cleared his throat and spoke once more. "After Abigail and Hannah… I had to run away, get away, and just… cease to exist. So I enlisted." He swallowed as he noticed that she was no longer looking at him. No, he could see her pulling back as she had after David. "When they found out that I was a good shot, they made me a sniper. They sent me to get someone. I waited 'til I could get the perfect shot. And I got it. And afterwards… I was so ashamed. I became obsessed with knowin' everythin' 'bout him. He wasn't what they said he was…" He continued through the story until his voice trailed into nothing.

Her brows were slightly raised, her mouth agape as she looked away from him. Her eyes saw not the small compartment, but the cave once more. The cave that David had held her in. _He's like David. He lied to me. He did this. How could Sully do this to me? I trusted him. Oh god, I gave myself to him. I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong…_

"Don't," he whispered, gently grasping the sides of her face and forcing her to look at him. "Please. Be mad. Yell at me. But don't go there, Michaela. Don't go back there. Hit me, scream at me, give me a speech." He cringed and looked down ashamed. "I wanted to tell ya… but… please, say somethin'?"

Her hands were physically shaking as she quickly licked her lips. When she finally acknowledged his face so close to her own, she felt the saline liquid slide down her cheek. "I'm going to be ill," she cried softly.

Moving swiftly into action, Sully helped her to the basin and assisted her as she retched into the bowl. Cringing at every sound, he couldn't believe what he had done. When the sounds ceased, he assisted her to sit down once more and retrieved mint water that she had packed. Once she had swished it around her mouth and spat it in a cup that he had handed to her, he held to her hand.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I need to lay down." She turned to settle into the bed once more, purposely turning her back to him.

Minutes rolled by in agonising hours as he sat in the corner of the compartment and looked at her. The tears rolled down her cheeks and she tried so desperately to hold back the sob that clung to her throat. It tightened and when she tried to swallow it before it became articulated, she felt herself incapable of swallowing or breathing and eventually the choked cry reverberated though the partition and echoed off of the chambers of Sully's heart.

As Michaela slowly shuffled through the hall of the train, she tried not to think about Sully or her mother. But unfortunately, being as those were the two topics she wanted to avoid thinking about, she could not help but dwell on them. The minutes were somehow managing to pass slowly yet rapidly at the same time. Slowly, as the tension when Sully was in the compartment was so incredibly painful that it made her nausea worse. Slowly, as when Sully left the compartment in an attempt to give her space, it made her feel as though she was losing control of her life. Rapidly, because each mile that passed brought her a mile closer to Boston, closer to her mother, and closer to revealing the deception that had happened in Colorado Springs. Rapidly, because the tension between her and Sully was unresolved, which would ultimately prove Elizabeth Quinn correct.

_He lied, but can I blame him? _She asked herself for possibly the thousandth time. _After everything that happened? I would have been afraid to tell him in the same situation. I still haven't told him about…_

Shaking her head, she sighed and turned back to the compartment. Sully was not there and she sighed in frustration as she sat down. Shortly after closing her eyes, she heard the latch on the door turn and she looked up to see Sully shutting the door behind him.

"Hey," he nodded, leaning against the door and shifting uncomfortably. "Feel better after the walk?"

Biting her lip, she looked at him, waiting for the words that she needed to say to him to appear on his skin. He noticed that she wasn't pushing him away, she wasn't avoiding him. She appeared lost but not numb.

"Michaela?" he asked, the hope in his voice.

"Sully," she sighed. "I love you. I miss you. I miss falling asleep to the sound of your heart beat. And… and I know…" She furrowed her brow and looked at him. "I wish that I could be back in Colorado Springs and you could take me to that view… and we could find our way, again."

With great care and respect, he moved towards her and sighed. "Look into my eyes. And find your way there. My heart is yours, Michaela. I know I was wrong… I shoulda told ya earlier…"

"No, Sully," she interrupted. "I wish… you just always have been so private… so much of your life was so painful. And I know that I will never understand all of you, and that is why I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life finding out every thing that I can about you. I just wish… I had known before." She let a small smile touch her lips.

Looking down, rather ashamed, he shifted uncomfortably. "I am sorry, Michaela. I'm real sorry. I should've told ya."

"There is nothing that we can do about that now," she sighed and looked down to the floor.

Worried that she was angry at him, or that the sigh had deeper meaning, his head shot up and he frantically tried to search her eyes for indication of anger. But all he could find was sadness. Hurt. He was ashamed that he had provoked these emotions, particularly after he swore to never hurt her. It was even worse that she was suffering through this after they had given themselves to one another; it could have all been avoided had he not held so much back. It could have been avoided if he had been more open; not so apprehensive about pushing her away.

Especially when hiding what he had done provoked more damage than good for her.

"Say somethin' else," he whispered, looking at the leather band around her finger.

"What do you mean?" she looked at him confused.

"Just say somethin', anythin'. Be mad at me?" He hoped that she was not tempted to fall back into the painful place she had been after David.

Shaking her head, she looked down at him. "I am upset that you did not tell me. But I'm not mad. You thought you were protecting me. Just… please? Promise me you won't do that again?"

"I should've told ya."

"You could have never told me and I doubt I would have learned. But you did. Despite what I went through, you told me. And… I appreciate that."

Smiling, he reached up to kiss her mouth. "Lemme tell ya this, since ya dun know a lotta 'bout my life. My first kiss was with a girl named Susie. She was thirteen. I was eleven. I kissed her under a tree." He grinned and watched as she smiled and reached to kiss her softly. "Nothin' like kissin' ya."

"Older woman?"

Giving a shrug, he nodded. "What can I say?"

She seemed to contemplate this. "You could… tell me that you love me."

Moving to settle next to her, he laid down and pulled her head against his shoulder and letting them settle down to get comfortable. "I love you. And I need t'ask ya a favour."

"Hmm?" She had missed this; how could she have been so afraid?

"See a doctor in Boston. You've been sick for so long… shouldn't be this bad. Promise me?"

"I am a doctor." She pointed out the obvious.

"And you're also my wife," he said, but continued before she could interrupt with some declaration about how he did not own her. His voice softened, "And I couldn't live with myself if somethin' happened t'you."

Biting her lip, she gave in. "If I'm not better by tomorrow afternoon, I'll contact a doctor in Boston."

"Ya ain't gonna go with Dr. Snivel, are ya?" he asked, the resentment apparent in his voice.

"I haven't decided," she teased him and swallowed. "Sully?"

Rolling his neck, he kissed the top of her head. "Yeah?"

"Nothing. Just… thank you for telling me." She flinched that she hadn't told him, but fatigue claimed her in the security of his arms.

As they stepped down from the train in the Boston Station, Michaela honestly wanted to expel the minimal contents in her stomach all over the floor. The smoke, the people, the suffocating feeling; had Boston always been so crowded? She took several deep breaths and held firmly to Sully's arm.

He had even washed behind his ears, dressed in one of the fancies that Colleen had convinced him to purchase when they had been here a year ago. He shifted uncomfortably in the suit as he pointed out the luggage they had brought along as one of the uniformed men placed it on a cart.

"Is your sister meeting us?" he said to Michaela, finally noticing how pale she had become since departing the train. Cupping his hand in the small of her back, he pulled her away from the crowded area, ignoring the raised brows of the Bostonians as his other hand cupped her cheek. "Michaela? Ya feelin' alright?"

"Mmm?" she blinked at him and nodded. "So many people. I feel… it is so stuffy in here. Let's get to the house. We can get a carriage to take us." Her words were softer than he had anticipated and he strained slightly to hear her over the bustling arena. But he had heard and he indicated to the carrier that he needed a carriage.

"They ain't pickin ya up?"

She shook her head. "I received no telegram to tell me that they would. This will be easier." He wondered if there wasn't something more to it but if there had been no telegram, he did not want to press her.

By the time they were at the side of the street, there was a carriage awaiting them and their luggage had been loaded onto the back. Sully assisted Michaela into the carriage and took one final look around the station and surrounding buildings before climbing in.

Boston. Sully could not understand Boston. Everyone was so crowded, there were so many people, and he swore that half of them did not know where they were going. They were walking for the sake of populating the street. While he might confess that he had enjoyed the meal he had shared with Michaela when they had been here the last time, and he might even confess as to how much he appreciated the opera, he could not enjoy the city as the children had. He felt suffocated, anxious. With Michaela feeling ill, his protective nature was even more heightened. He would not deny that he could see how Boston was a part of her; and it was potentially for this sole purpose that he could not hate Boston. But this was not in his blood, it was not his home, and he knew he never could bring himself to making this his home. That was one reason he had been so worried about Michaela and Boston: he could never love Boston, be at peace with Boston, and he could never live with himself if he began to resent her for wanting to live there.

The conundrum – he was certain that now, especially now, he could not live without her. But she wanted to live in Colorado Springs and they could find happiness there. Though he had wondered how long he would last with the railroad building and the train coming.

The rattling of the carriage provoked her to close her eyes, biting the inside of her lip. Grateful that Sully was temporarily lost in his thoughts, she could breathe deeply and attempt to escape from hers.

She had absolutely no concept of how to tell her mother that she and Sully had eloped, let alone the fact it was not even a legal ceremony. She knew that her mother would react poorly; it had been the end result of every possible scenario that she had run in her head since the letter had been received. How to bring it up? Her illness began to worry her, as well, and she might even make herself see a doctor. Then again, she had promised Sully. At least she and Sully had made up in reaction to his confession. But she felt as if she should tell him. Not what David had done in the cave; those memories had been relived gradually with him after the sweat lodge. No, she wanted to tell him, felt obligated to tell him about David before his leaving for war. When he had come to her and asked for permission to her bed. That part had been left out of the confessions of the cave. For some reason, she did not want to tell Sully, not quite placing her finger as to the justification as to why she was hesitant to. Yet at the same time, she felt compelled to tell him.

Time had passed too quickly for her liking and her thoughts were interrupted by the halting of the carriage. As the door was opened by the driver, she looked at Sully, who appeared calm on the exterior but she knew that he was less than settled. He grasped her hand and helped her out before looking straight into her two-toned eyes.

"Hey," he whispered. "I'm right here. Ain't gonna leave ya to face this alone." He kissed her hand softly and the both turned towards the now overwhelming house. When the door opened, they both became stiff, but it was Harrison that made them relax some. But only some.

"Miss!" Harrison exclaimed, making his way down the steps to instruct the driver where to place the luggage in the foyer. "We were not expecting you for two more days!"

"Hello, Harrison!" She granted a genuine smile and gave him a brief hug. "You remember Mr. Sully?"

Harrison nodded and extended a hand to Mr. Sully. Harrison respected Sully and once the two shook hands, Sully nodded his head. "Just Sully, Harrison."

"Only when the missus is not around," he bargained. Turning his attention to Michaela, he smiled and looked a bit confused. "Your mother told us that you were arriving on the eighth, not the sixth. Your mother is not actually here."

Pursing her lips, she nodded. "It must have been an eight on the letter, than. We thought it was a six. We had Matthew send a telegraph to confirm the date, though."

Shaking his head gently, Harrison began to guide them up the stairs and into the elaborate entrance where Martha greeted Michaela and Sully before he could explain.

"You see, Miss Michaela, the telegram told your mother that you would arrive on the agreed upon date. She is visiting some friends in Amherst until then."

"Mr. Sully," Martha hesitated and looked at him.

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's just…" Harrison nodded and saw the question in Martha's eyes.

"What is it?" Michaela inquired, looking at her mother's servants with confusion.

Clearing her throat, Martha finally came out with it. "We didn't know that Mr. Sully was coming, Miss. Your mother informed us that only you were. And we have been awfully confused because your mother… well…"

Harrison continued for her. "Your mother has not mentioned Mr. Sully's name at all in conjunction with this visit."

"You mean…" Sully's voice trailed off, suddenly reaffirmed in his belief that he had needed to accompany Michaela.

"We mean that we didn't think that it was _your_ engagement that your mother was referring to."

"But!" Martha intervened. "We could have been silly. Have missed the obvious. But we're so glad you are home! We shall prepare your old room for you, miss, and a guest bedroom for Mr. Sully."

Swallowing, Michaela nodded and watched as Harrison began to take their luggage up the stairs. Sully assisted him, much to his objection, but soon enough they had everything settled where it was supposed to be. It had taken Sully aback. _Separate rooms?_ He thought. _We ain't had separate rooms for months! Then again… this is Boston. Different rules, different everything. They don't know. Just haveta remember that._

But different rooms?

_I hate Boston_.

Michaela looked around the entrance, seemingly lost. Once Sully joined her, she accepted his arm and realised that she had anticipated feeling so strained upon entering the house that when she had arrived and found that her mother was nowhere to be found for two days, she felt calmed. Harrison and Martha could be trusted; she did not mind taking her husband's arm in front of them.

"Martha? You wouldn't happen to be able to get some soup together, would you?" Michaela asked politely.

Nodding, Martha began to head towards the kitchen. "Give me thirty minutes."

Sully smiled at Michaela as they moved towards the parlour for a moment as the servants left them alone, cupping his arm across her back and guiding her to sit.

"Michaela," he began, but she shook her head.

"I will have Harrison send a message to Dr. Ralston's office this afternoon," she interrupted and looked at him.

"Who's he?"

Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath to calm herself. She was not irritated with Sully; on the contrary, she was saddened by the prospect of seeing him once again.

"Roger Ralston… he was a very good colleague of my father." She whispered. He nodded in understanding from his place kneeling at her feet, softly rubbing her hands.

"Do ya want me to go with ya?"

She shook her head and stared out of the window, into the far off scenery. Being back in Boston was so hard for her, at best. It was not simply a matter of accepting her decisions all over again, nor even doing this under the severe speculation and criticism of those whom had been an active part in her life when she was younger. It was being back in a world that had contained Josef Quinn. Boston was where she had been with her father. And especially right now, she wanted him by her side once more.

"Michaela?" he touched her cheek, watching as the tears threatened her mismatched eyes. His brow furrowed in concern as he affectionately caressed the smooth skin. "What's wrong?"

Her heart was tightening as a result of an unseen fist, making her choke on the sobs that she did not want to release. Unable to tell him what was wrong, she tried to simply shake her head. If she believed that nothing was wrong, then it would be true. And it couldn't be true. Not now. Why wasn't her father here to help her with her mother? Why couldn't he be here to meet Sully? Would she have met Sully if her father hadn't died?

No, she could not think about such things right now. She had to focus on being happy, on being confident. When she looked at him, feeling the liquid stream down her cheeks, she saw the concern emanating from his intense blue eyes. During the last couple of months, she had learned to read his eyes more so than before. She had always felt exposed before them, but now she felt a deeper connection. As if when they looked into one another's gaze, their souls were able to come together and touch for brief moments.

Sniffling, she smiled an embarrassed smirk and looked away, a finger brushing away her tears. "I miss my father, that's all." Sully reached for her and, sitting on the arm rest which would no doubt provoke Elizabeth to have a seizure, he pulled her against his chest. "I wish he was here."

His fingers caressed her soft hair as he stabilised his body with a leg firmly planted on the floor. Finding no words to say, and suspecting that she did not want him to speak but to merely listen, he rocked her back and forth. Soon, she had taken hold of her emotions and let out several deep breaths. She wiped her eyes clear of the tears and smiled up at him as she felt his thumb run over the band of leather and engagement ring that were around her finger. No words were needed and he offered a hand to her as she rose from the chair.

"Two days without your Ma," he murmured to himself.

"It would happen, wouldn't it? When I want to get the painful part over with immediately, she is gone and we have to wait."

Chuckling, he stole a kiss behind her ear before whispering. "Could be worse."


	13. Chapter 13

Michaela padded towards the door with the hanging shingle that said "Dr. Roger Ralston" proudly. The last time she had seen him had been her father's funeral, and she hoped that she would be able to maintain composure in front of him. The fatigue was worsened by the fact that she had not slept well the night before. Sully had slept across the hallway, making it strange to not have his warmth next to her. She had been tempted to sneak across the hallway, if only for a few minutes, but could not bring herself to.

"Michaela?" a voice came up behind her, stopping her in her tracks just in front of Dr. Ralston's office. Turning, she saw Dr. Snivel.

Rather, Dr. Burke.

"Dr. Burke." She smiled graciously, purposely addressing him formally. "How are you? How is your practise going?"

The over-exaggerated smile was apparent, as always, and she tried to maintain a friendly attitude. It was not that she did not like Dr. William Burke. It merely felt awkward that he had proposed to her a year ago, especially now that she was married to Sully. "I am so pleased to see you," he gushed, reaching to shake her hand enthusiastically. "I never thought I would see you in the streets of Boston once again. How long have you been in town? Might I take you out for dinner tonight? Unless you are far too busy with your mother, to which I completely understand. But I insist that you permit me the pleasure of your company before you leave. Are you going to return to Colorado Springs?"

The overwhelming questions made Michaela falter slightly and she took a breath before addressing each inquiry in turn. "I am very well. I am in Boston by the insistence of my mother. I will be returning to Colorado Springs. Once my mother returns to Boston, we will be-"

He interrupted. "She is gone? Then tonight would be perfect for me to take you to dinner and the opera. I… I would like to see you again, Michaela."

Smiling politely, she shook her head. "I am afraid that Sully might object to that." She was attempting to be subtle in reference to her relationship with him.

"Sully?" She saw how his eyes became disheartened at the mention of the man, looking down. "You are… I had thought it would have ended by now…"

"No. We are still together. Very happy and very much in love."

Pursing his lips, he looked at her. "I doubt he could offer you what I could have, had I been given such a blessed opportunity."

The irony of that sentiment was not lost on her, though he was completely oblivious. "No. He has offered me the world, his world. And then he created our world. And I have accepted."

"My congratulations. But I do insist that we meet together before you depart. As colleagues, if nothing else?"

She pondered the invitation for a few moments. "Call on my mother's house in a few days and I will be able to give you a more definite answer. I must apologise for my abruptness, but I have an appointment with Dr. Ralston."

"Of course," he nodded. "I shall call upon you soon. Have a fine afternoon, Michaela."

Grateful that he was gone, she turned and climbed the steps to the office. After introducing herself to the receptionist, she sat on a waiting room chair and remained relatively calm until he called for her.

"Mike!" Came a voice from the nearby door.

"Dr. Ralston." She extended her hand to his and shook it before they briefly engaged in small talk.

"How is the practise in Ohio?" he asked.

"Colorado, actually. It is fairing quite well."

"Right, right. Ohio. Colorado. All the same to me. Failed geography. Your mother mentioned you had children?"

"Three that I adopted. And," she stopped and pondered how to mention Sully. "And I have married." Pride was apparent on her face as she smiled. "Just do not mention that fact to my mother. She would be quite… perturbed to have found out after you."

Dr. Ralston granted a hearty laugh at that statement. "Your father would have owed me fifty dollars this day, Dr. Michaela Quinn, had he lived. I told him that you would elope before giving into a high and well to do marriage to rival your sisters'."

The mention of her father did not make her falter and she managed to even laugh with him before they began to conduct the physical examination. She detailed her symptoms, informing him of the stress she had been under as he carefully moved over her body.

"I recall that you have worked yourself this hard before, have you not?"

"Yes, a few times. Though I have normally recovered shortly after stepping back into a healthy routine. I have yet to recover this time."

"What about your monthly?"

Shaking her head, she answered. "It has never been entirely consistent. Under stress, it tends to be less accommodating to what I want."

He looked at her boldly. "Are you and your husband… active?"

If one could die of embarrassment, she wondered if she wouldn't have needed to be resuscitated at that point. The man who had brought her bits of candy for naming the proper muscles when she had been a child was now inquiring into the intimacy that she shared with Sully.

"Don't answer. I was attempting to gauge if you were trying to… well…I can tell the truth by your eyes. Mike, I find it ironic that you have not noted the symptoms for what they are."

"What are you implying?"

Chuckling, he looked at her, shaking his head. "You're pregnant."

She stopped and wondered if she wasn't going to empty her breakfast on the floor of his exam room right then. "I'm… I'm pregnant?"

"Yes. I would say right about two and a half months. I thought perhaps you and your husband were trying for this conception."

Her corset was too tight, she could feel it. Her breasts had been tender and slightly swollen as of late and she had been able to convince Martha to lace her up more tightly than normal to accommodate to what she had believed had been bloating. Letting her hand fall to her abdomen, she felt fear, anxiety, happiness and love battling to be the dominating emotion inside of her.

_A baby. Sully's baby. My baby. Our baby._ She let a grin threaten the corner of her lips before the half smirk became apparent on her face and she looked at Dr. Ralston contently. She could not bring herself to think about what the town would say, or even what her mother would say. But she was concerned with what Sully would think. He would be happy? Excited? She had to see him; she had to be with him. She felt overwhelmed and she was longing for the sense of calm that she could only find in his arms. It was not a matter of fear, just love.

He would burn his tie upon their return to Colorado Springs. He was certain of it. Constantly pulling at it, playing with it, it became the best way for him to handle his anxiety and sheer discomfort of being in Boston. In addition to the strange surroundings, Michaela had insisted upon going to Dr. Ralston's without him in attendance. What if she did have one of those ulcer things she mentioned? What if it was something worse?

The night before had not been kind to him. He was only able to catch a bit of sleep after finally sneaking into her bedroom and checking that she was alright, but he could tell that she was having a restless night. He had slipped out before she was completely conscious once more.

But her absence had served one brilliant purpose. As he stepped out of the jewellery store, he pressed his hands into his coat pockets, his right hand clinging to the small black box that he had just put in there. He was tired of people speculating about a leather strip, and this made him feel as if society would take their marriage more seriously. Admittedly, he had been a bit shocked at the price, but he managed to find a band that he liked, though he was hoping that she would, too.

Now, it was a matter of not getting lost attempting to find his way back to Beacon Hill… Navigating in the woods was so much easier than this city.

Eventually, he walked up the familiar street that held the Quinn household and looked at the door. Was he supposed to knock? Or did he just walk right in? He had been thankful that Harrison and Martha were so easy going with Elizabeth away, but he still wasn't sure as to the protocol.

"Mr. Sully?" A voice interrupted him from behind. A man's voice. Turning, he found Dr. William Burke.

_Don't. Say. Snivel_. "Dr. Burke." He nodded and felt like a fool in front of the door.

"I just ran into Michaela a while ago," he indicated towards the direction from which he came. "She told me that I might stop by."

"Did she?" His brows came together and he looked at the man with disapproval, though William appeared to be oblivious to it.

The grin was still plastered upon his face. Sully was reminded of the make up that Loren and Brian wore for the circus.

"Yes. I thought I might come by earlier than she had recommended. I have been eager to see her once again."

Shifting uncomfortably, he nodded. "Oh?" Why wouldn't he just go away? Sully was more concerned with getting into the house.

Both had been so consumed in their hardly riveting conversation that they did not notice the approaching figure.

"Yes. She is such… such a woman. I have missed our conversations."

"And… she wanted ya to come by?" Sully didn't particularly like this idea. Then again, Sully did not particularly care for William.

"Sully?"

They both turned to see Michaela. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were slightly flushed. William moved to adjust his tie, oblivious to the fact that Michaela had not looked upon him. Her gaze went straight to Sully. She was radiating in such a way that his discomfort in the choice of clothing was temporarily forgotten, so lost in her beauty that he could no longer take notice.

"Michaela," he whispered.

"Michaela!" William walked towards her. She looked at him as though it was the first time she had taken notice of is presence since her arrival. "I thought I might stop by earlier."

Looking at Sully briefly once again, she forced herself to smile and reluctantly took notice of William. "I'm sorry, Dr. Burke, but… Sully and I have a lunch engagement that is most pressing. In a few days, if you would be so kind?"

Feeling shot down, William nodded to both of them. "I look forward to calling on you once again." He left before she could object to his choice of words.

Sully came down the steps and placed a hand to her elbow. She looked at him, the brightness reminding him of the stars that had borne witness to their marriage vows.

"He's gonna call on you?" he swallowed.

"Hmm?" She seemed distracted. "No. Harrison shouldn't be here." She began to guide him into the house. Harrison was not there to greet them, as she predicted. Martha was doing laundry.

"What're we doin' for lunch?" He followed her inside, but the answer to his question was granted in a kiss. Admittedly shocked that she was daring to do this in the entry way of her mother's house, it took him a few moments to reciprocate the action to meet her passion. His eyes closed and he pulled her closer than he had in a while, letting his hands roam against her back and sides, feeling the stiffness of the corset beneath the fabric of her fine dress.

When they finally broke their affection, Sully looked at her quizzically.

"We are still in Boston, right?"

Nodding, she reached for his lips once more, feeling him quickly giving into the pleasure that came with their intimacy. The warmth of his hands made her feel better than she had in weeks, and made her feel safe. She briefly drifted back to the night they had spent together, before David. Before everything that had happened. She felt even safer, now.

"Harrison is gone," he whispered, nipping at her jaw line. "Martha said she'd be doin' laundry until dinner."

She nodded and before they could be interrupted, he had her in his arms and carried her up the stairs towards her bedroom. Having only a brief chance to admire it, he quickly became distracted by her. He wanted to ask her how the doctor's appointment had gone, and her actions made him believe that either it had been something very good or something incredibly bad. Unfortunately, thinking coherently was rapidly becoming too much of a challenge.

They stripped one another of their clothing frantically, Michaela struggling with the difference in Sully's clothing as he desperately fought the urge to rip off hers. Then, they came to the corset. Sully briefly struggled to remove it, but it finally joined the pile of cloth that was mounting to the side of the bed.

It was as if they had both been denied water for weeks and they were finally giving into their thirst for one another. The frenzied removal of their clothing slowed when he finally touched her nude body, letting his hands trail her goose-pimpled skin. As he ran his fingertips over her breasts, he thought they looked different. She looked different. Perhaps the few days they had not been together had made him forget, but he could not think about it now. He gently squeezed the round mound, to which she bit her lip and guided his hands towards a less tender destination.

Making love to one another with their fingertips, their lips, their caresses, they inevitably fell onto the bed, joining together to feel their souls merge into one another. Their senses overloaded as they drowned in one another's touch, scent, breath, being. Then at some point, it changed. Somehow, it became deeper, though neither understood why or even how. The frantic caresses manifested themselves into a hunger to become closer, emotionally, physically and spiritually. The murmurs of their love was articulated between quieted sounds of pleasure until their zenith came, breaking down whatever walls had still remained surrounding both of their hearts.

As he gasped for air, he pulled back a strayed strand of her hair and kissed her gently. Speaking seemed inappropriate and the look in her eyes told him that she had felt it, too. Nuzzling her, he waited until the last possible moment before pulling away, immediately reaching for her and clinging to her.

She wondered how it was possible. It was more; somehow, it had become more. It was as if they had finally let go of everything that had kept them a part, and it was deeper. Pure. She briefly wondered if she had not already been with child, whether they would not have conceived as a result of this union. Michaela rubbed her cheek against his slightly dampened skin, kissing his flesh as her fingers ran through his long hair. No words; she couldn't give justice to her feelings.

The fact that he had not slept properly in some time was starting to pull on him, as he felt the physical and emotional euphoria pulling on his muscles. Despite the fact that it was not even afternoon yet, and the fact he did not want to drift into unconsciousness when he would rather watch her sleep, his body began to lull towards sleep while wrapped in the cocoon of love and warmth.

"I love you," he whispered, her caresses encouraging him to give into slumber.

"I love you, too," she swore, continue her ministrations. She felt his breathing threatening sleep. Feeling a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she kept her voice low and soothing. "Sully? I did not ask him to call on me."

Letting his eyes close, he breathed. "I know." Though it sounded more like "ahno" due to his exhausted state.

"Sully?"

A sound, somewhat akin to an "hmm?" came from his chest.

"We are going to have a baby."

She wondered if he hadn't fallen asleep, considering that for a good sixty seconds there was no movement. But then she suddenly felt him shift, his hands on either side of her and holding his weight off of her as he looked with wide eyes.

"Say that again."

She looked down and closed her eyes, her cheeks flaming in excitement before opening her lids to look into his azure pools. "We're going to have a baby."

The smile threatened several times before taking hold, his hands scooping behind her and supporting her weight off of the mattress before pulling her against him. "We are?" Pulling back to look at her, he shook his head. "How… how d'ya know?"

"Dr. Ralston. He informed me that I am pregnant."

His face resembled a child's on Christmas, looking at thrice the presents that he had anticipated. Letting her settle against the mattress beneath them, his hands carefully moved towards her abdomen. His touch was light, careful, as if he was afraid that he would break her. Both of his hands covered her abdomen and he looked up at her, his eyes shining brightly. "A baby?"

She nodded.

"_Our_ baby?" He was being redundant, but he did not notice.

"Yes." She whispered, placing her hands over his. The fascination in his eyes made her feel confidant, a deep breath demonstrating her resolve.

"I'm gonna be a Pa." He situated their hands so he could place a tender kiss against her abdomen, as if to communicate his already existing love to their unborn child through that simple action. "But… wait," he looked up at her. "That's what's been wrong with ya?"

Nodding slowly, she let her hands reach to caress his hair once more. "He recommended that I take naps until the fatigue has ceased. Ginger tea and bits of bread to help settle my stomach. He believes that my symptoms were so extreme due to the stress. He told me to take it easier on my body."

"What about…" he looked at her, his body still rested upon his arms. "I don't wanna hurt ya or the baby…"

A smile was apparent on her face as she guided him so that she could find the familiar comfort of his arms once more. "I'm fine. You're fine. The baby is fine."

He pulled her back against his chest, resting his face upon her pillow and with his chin atop her head as both of his arms embraced her. One hand was gently stroking her abdomen as he thought about the child growing beneath his fingertips. Their child. It was overwhelming to think that he had been apart of something so miraculous. Too tired to be worried about consequences or old fears, he only briefly broke his hold on her to wrap the covers around them. "You need to sleep, then."

"Dr. Ralston's orders, I know."

"Nope. Doc Sully's orders."

"I am particularly fond of Doc Sully," she smiled, placing a hand over his. "But we must wake up before too long. I do not want Martha to suspect what… well…"

He could hear the embarrassment in her voice and squeezed her ever so lightly to convey his understanding. "Sleep."

But she did not hear. She fell into content dreams that she would not remember upon waking, him joining her shortly thereafter.


	14. Chapter 14

The room was meticulously cleaned. The bed sheets had been bleached so many times that one might doubt if they would ever cease to smell like the chemical again. The room had not only been cleaned but white washed. When the sun reflected off of the walls, it was painfully bright.

Soon, she would arrive. Elizabeth had no idea and while David was fond of the older woman, Michaela's transgression had been too great to go unpunished. He would see her again. He would make her pay.

The surgeon knives were placed back in their appropriate places after a thorough cleaning, prepared for their next use.

He wondered what she would decide. He wondered how everything would come to pass. Patience had been his virtue and how long he had waited for her. But regardless of what she decided, she had to be punished for what she had done to him.

* * *

It took a few moments, but eventually Michaela let her eyes slip open to see the scene before her. Sully's head was resting on his arm, his large hand over her lower abdomen, all of his attention on the cloth covered belly. Smiling at this, she pretended to remain asleep.

"But no courtin' until you're of age." He paused. "Or until you're thirty, I ain't decided yet. And no matter what, I gotta approve of who ya wanna marry…" His hand gently moved over the skin that protected his unborn child. "Assumin' I let ya outta the house."

"Ironic coming from us, don't you think?" She whispered, her eyes opening slightly.

He turned and looked at her sheepishly, the impish grin over his face before he moved to kiss the belly, or rather the blanket over the belly, and then her lips sweetly. She cupped the sides of his face as he situated himself so he was propped on his elbow, the other hand still protectively covering her stomach. "What do ya mean?"

She didn't want to ruin this moment, and suddenly regretted what she had said. One of her hands curled a loose lock of his hair behind his head and she sighed. "Mother isn't going to approve."

"Do ya want her approval?" he said, a bit worried. "Tell me what ya want me to do, Michaela. I'll do it."

The problem was that she didn't know what she wanted. "I don't know. I wish… I wish she would understand. But when we tell her that we're married, when she learns of my pregnancy… I do not anticipate this to be an easy course." Closing her eyes, she sighed. "Despite the fact I do not regret our actions, I wish she would be willing to understand."

He reached down and pressed a kiss into her temple. "I'm sorry, Michaela."

Opening her eyes, she shook her head. "You have nothing to apologise for, Sully. I know the choices I have made," she placed her hand over his. "The ones that we have made. But the time between her learning of our actions and her accepting them… I would rather not experience."

"I promise ya, I'll be here for every moment of that time. Won't leave ya alone." He pulled her into his arms and buried his nose in her hair.

"But the baby is allowed to court, Sully." She smiled.

"Nope." He was completely serious in his expression. "An' no spendin' too much time un-chaperoned with its gran'ma."

"Oh?" She raised a brow at that. "Not until Mother understands, I agree. If… if she ever will…"

"Be strong. She loves ya."

"Oh," she sighed. "I do not doubt that she loves me. But I do not think that she particularly likes me. There is a difference."

"We got ourselves twenty four hours to come up with a plan."

She smiled. "Shall we get started?"

He turned his attention back to her belly. "Not yet. Now, your ABCs go a, b, c…"

"Sully… we have to get dressed." She sighed, letting her hands reluctantly pull his attention away from their unborn child.

"Right." He stood up, completely naked, and went to sort out his clothes from the pile on the floor. Michaela blushed at his freedom, drawing the sheet around her body before going to retrieve her clothing.

"I'll have Martha lace me up in my room," she nodded. "I'll slip over there and tell her I was taking a nap."

"Wait," he placed a hand upon hers, stopping her and looking at her with a furrowed brow. "Corset? Ain't… that bad for the baby?"

Smiling softly, she sighed. "It's necessary for me to fit in my clothes while in Boston, Sully."

"Have Martha let them out." It was a simple solution, in his eyes.

"It's only for a little while. Once we're back in Colorado Springs, I won't wear the corset anymore."

He saw the apprehension flicker in her eyes as she mentioned Colorado Springs. He knew that there would be gossip; that the gossip would be hard on their other children, on her. It wasn't a problem of him accepting it – he would take the brunt of it without expressing anything.

"Hey," he cupped her cheek. "Let's go out for dinner."

"Dinner?" She raised a brow.

"Yup. Gotta court my wife."

* * *

The dinner had gone without complications. They had danced briefly, though the slower songs since Sully admitted he was out of practise and Michaela will still attempting to come to terms with her nausea. They spoke in hushed tones about the child and briefly about what they would tell Elizabeth Quinn, though they had made a promise that once food began to arrive that they would cease any discussion involving her. The decision was that they would tell Elizabeth after she rested from her return trip. And they would patiently tell her everything. Including the child. They were both nervous about it, but they refrained from expressing as such and focused on the beautiful meal and night before them.

Michaela's face had beamed when he gave her the small wedding band. "To make it official t'others." He had explained. She had contested – it was official. And she would never remove that strip of leather. So now there were three "rings" upon her finger. The leather wedding band, the engagement ring, and the wedding ring. They had laughed about how out of order they had been placed upon her finger, but the love that shone in their eyes dulled the glittering metal of the rings.

When the carriage had arrived at the Quinn household, a figure walking down the street stopped and fell into the shadows. The couple was oblivious and beamed to one another as he assisted her down from the carriage. They entered the house and the figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Michaela," the figure scowled. Sully was with her. How could Elizabeth have been so foolish? Then again, what were they doing in Boston early? He was disgusted with her. How could she have become such a disappointment? Gripping his hands against a nearby post, he audibly growled and focused on the house. A change in plans. But he was prepared.

* * *

Sully stood at the window, his arms folded across his chest and staring out into the night sky. He was alert, waiting for anything to disturb the outside peace, while inwardly finding some peace at the news his wife had given him earlier that day.

A child. _Their_ child. He wondered what it would look like, whether it would be a boy or a girl. How would he be able to protect it? From scrapes and bruises, skinned knees and broken hearts? His heart swelled with a mixture of anxiety, anticipation, love, and pride. Though he would rarely admit it in the verbal sense, he had wanted a child of his own. When he had married Michaela, he had acquired three. He loved Matthew, Brian and Colleen. And if he and Michaela had never had children, he would have continued to love them and lived in happiness. But Brian had made him want to have children of his own, once again. He remembered when the boy was younger and how he especially among the children had made him even think about fatherhood again after Hannah was lost to him. Michaela had managed to unfreeze his heart after Abigail.

Abigail. What if… what if what had happened to Abigail happened to Michaela? What if something happened to the child? The uneasy feeling that had not left since their arrival was becoming more agitated as a dozen scenarios began to run through his head. Cloud Dancing had said something about the bad. No, he could not go through this bad again. Michaela was the only reason he had survived Abigail. He was certain that he could not survive Michaela. And the children?

Anxiety now attempting to overthrow logic, he felt something more. The urgent need to confirm the wellbeing of his wife was becoming heavier against his heart. Something felt wrong.

_Nothin's wrong. Just nervous. You're gonna be a Pa. Ain't nothin' gonna go wrong. Michaela is strong…_But with ever reassuring thought that he sent to fight against his fears, the worry became stronger and more resolved. His eyes flickered through the streets that were outside of his window. Occasionally a figure moved. A carriage went by, a man eager to get home, even what appeared to be a chaperoned couple. He thought that he was being watched, but by whom? No candles were lit, the only light coming from the miraculous moon that graced them with the reflected light while the lights from the streets gave little help. No one could see that he was there.

It was too much to bear, anymore. Turning, he left his bedroom and crept down the hall towards Michaela's. There was no sound in the household, not even from his bare feet against the fine floors. He saw a light glowing from under the door and he wondered if he should knock as to not interrupt her. But would the knock waken the others? He was quite aware of the fact that he had absolutely no idea where the servants slept. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door just a crack and whispered her name through.

"Michaela?"

No answer. Swallowing, he pushed the door open a bit further, he saw her in front of the fireplace on a chair, facing the flames. He permitted his entrance and carefully shut the door behind him. "Michaela? Ya okay?"

"Hmm?" The sound came from her voice, her head turning to see him as he moved towards her. "I'm sorry, Sully. I was… thinking." Her volume was lowered, not louder than the flames flickering in the fireplace before her. She felt his warmth beside her before his touch, guiding his lowered head to kiss her before looking at him.

"Thinkin' 'bout yer Ma?" He whispered after the kiss.

"Among other things. The baby. The childrens' reactions. The town and how everyone will respond. And…" There was a flicker of a smile and she looked away.

"And… what?"

Pursing her lips briefly, she raised a brow and looked at him once more. "How much I want to hold your child in my arms. And watch you hold your child in your arms. It is as if for every bad scenario I can imagine, I am left with a positive to remind me why this is truly a blessed event."

"Couldn't've said it better myself," he smiled. In her hands was her hairbrush and he gently removed it before manoeuvring her locks so that he might comb through the copper tresses. She smiled at the affection, closing her eyes.

"Sully? You are in my bedroom."

He nodded, but continued brushing. "Yup. Wanted to check on ya. Make sure you were safe."

She recalled the overprotective nature that Horace had exhibited towards Myra and knew that Sully, being a protective and loving man in general, would of course be heightened during their stay in Boston and her recent health.

"I am perfectly safe."

Finishing with her hair, he gently guided her to the bed and under the covers. "Baby is okay?" He asked, pulling the covers up. He smiled when she grinned in reaction to his question.

"Yes. Mother and child have no indication as to anything but a need to rest."

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, closing his eyes as he felt her soft skin beneath his lips. "I don't want anythin' t'happen to ya."

She nodded in understanding, realising that it was not simple protectiveness; he feared for what had happened to Abigail and Hannah. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. "Sully?"

"I can't lose ya," he whispered, cupping her hand to his cheek and closing his eyes.

"You are going to have me a long time, Mr. Sully. If you so recall, I am a stubborn woman. And when I vowed myself to you in front of the night sky, I promised forever."

Her declaration provoked a small grin as he opened his eyes. She caressed his cheek and guided his other hand to her abdomen and let it rest over the layers of covers and her night shift, the silence between them serving as their conversation.

"Will you…" she whispered, letting her voice trail off as she took a deep breath. "Stay with me this night?"

He was confused and it was apparent on his face. "But Michaela…"

"I know… I just… I want to fall asleep in your arms. In your warmth and in your love. And that way, our child will fall asleep in your warmth and love."

He moved to lower the candle light and remove his shirt, letting it fall onto the chair she had been occupying minutes before. As for his trousers, he slipped them off after a moment of hesitation and crawled into bed next to her, immediately brought her towards his warmth.

"Sully? I have felt as if I have been watched ever since I came upstairs to ready for bed," she whispered her confession.

"Same here. Maybe we're imaginin' it."

"Do you believe that?"

He shrugged and closed his eyes. "I'm here, either way. Even if it's t'protect ya from the boogie man."

* * *

"Harrison," Martha whispered as he entered the kitchen the following morning. "Was Mr. Sully in his room?"

The butler looked at his friend and shook his head, the beginnings of a blush apparent on his cheeks. "No, he was not."

"I bet I know where he is!" she laughed lightly and looked around to ensure that they were, in fact, alone.

"The missus best not hear you say that once she arrives today," he scolded her. "It is none of our business."

"But you saw the rings upon her fingers! They are already married! Oh, the missus is going to be furious when she finds out!"

Shaking his head, he raised a finger. "Let Miss Michaela tell her. If she hears idle gossip from us, she'll be even more furious."

There was the sound of a carriage from outside the front door. Both of the servants stopped what they were doing and stared in something that resembled horror.

Harrison ran to the door and opened it, seeing the carriage driver bringing the luggage up the stairs and Elizabeth Quinn ascending the stairs.

"Mrs. Quinn! You informed us to expect you this afternoon!" Harrison said politely, reaching to help the driver with one of her trunks.

"Yes, well, I decided that I wanted to make the house perfect for Michaela's arrival. We began to head home last night and decided to leave early this morning. Now, I'm in need of a change of clothing." Elizabeth had stopped with her story when she realised that she was justifying her actions to her servants and in front of a carriage driver no less. The woman began to head up the stairs and both Harrison and Martha stared with wide eyes, neither able to run ahead to warn the two still in bed that they were no longer alone.

Sully turned slightly as he forced his eyes to open. The first thought in his mind was something had woken him up again, having greeted the day at his normal rising time before deciding to remain in bed with his wife as she rested. The second thought was that he was indeed in bed with his wife. After last night, it felt as though it was some brilliant blessing. He watched her as she fought to continue a deeper sleep. The smoothness of her skin, the radiance that was emanating from her form due to her pregnancy. The curve of her lips, the softness of her hair, he looked at her in love and devotion, thinking of nothing but her.

Then the third thought of the morning came when the lingering reminder of their news hit him over the back of the head. Pregnant. His hand reached to protectively cup her abdomen but before he could dwell on that, he heard the commotion that was echoing through the halls. With his brow furrowed, he reached for his trousers and put them on before heading towards the door.

"What do you mean she is already here?" Elizabeth asked Harrison, stopping at the top of the stairs and looking at the butler. He was trying to bide time for Mr. Sully and Miss Michaela.

As he opened the door, he did not have time to react to the stirring from their bed, nor the sound of his mother-in-law that had become more articulate after peeking out the door. Somehow, in time that had passed far too quickly, Michaela was beside him with her robe over her form and Elizabeth was opening the door.

"Michaela!" She exclaimed, Sully hidden slightly behind the door. "What are you doing still in bed? Are you not well? You arrived early?"

"Mother?" Michaela croaked out, swallowing with wide eyes as she pulled her robe tighter around her form.

Elizabeth's bright face suddenly dropped as the third person in the room came into her line of sight. One could physically see the change of expression wash over her face from pleasantly surprised to completely disgusted. Harrison took in a sharp breath of air, fearing that any further breathing would be audible to Mrs. Quinn. Michaela had simply ceased breathing, feeling as though she was a mere teenager who had been caught with a boy she had fancied behind the church after Sunday school. Sully stared at Elizabeth, the deep azures unchanging and refusing to show fear, anxiety or anything of the like. He looked straight at her, his bared torso exposed to her refinement and propriety in a contrasting antagonism.

Seconds pass into minutes, their heartbeats all serving as the cadence in which time passed them by. In decades to come, Stravinsky would be jealous of this scenario and would have thrived to recreate it in his music.

Denouncing any belief that a witness would have had that Mrs. Elizabeth Quinn had managed to die while standing in that very spot, Elizabeth turned on her heel and headed down the hallway. Despite their retreating nature, each echoing step seemed louder than the one before it and when the door slam echoed throughout the tense household, it was as if the mother had signified denying her daughter for the duration of their lives.

She did not acknowledge Sully as she shortly followed, the ties of her robe flowing behind her as she rushed down the hallway towards her mother's bedroom. She looked in front of the omnipotent door, remembering when she would enter as a child to find both her mother and father in there. How stoic they had always been around one another. She wondered if the door was locked. Taking a chance, and a big breath, she reached for the doorknob and found it unlocked. The click of the interior mechanics tugged at her heart before she entered the room and quietly shut it behind her.

Sully looked at Harrison, having not moved from his spot as Michaela left the room.

"Sir?"

"Did Michaela go after her mother?"

"Yes, sir."

He paused. "Can ya hide me?"


	15. Chapter 15

There were no words between either of them as they stood, Elizabeth looking at a picture of her husband that was on her nightstand, standing beside the bed. Michaela was standing right in front of the door, forcing herself to breathe. The sounds outside seemed deafening to both of them, as they waited for the other to initiate the verbal battle that was going to happen. It was as if they were both relishing the moments of tension as a preferred emotion over the heartbreak and articulated abuse that could potentially break their fragile relationship forever.

Unfortunately, the ball of emotions that had erupted within Michaela provoked her throat to tighten and she had to clear it or she felt as if she would suffocate. The sound broke the tense silence and Elizabeth snapped out.

"So, my harlot daughter has something to say to me?" she bitterly shot.

Flinching at the verbal reprimand, she pursed her lips before looking up. "I am not a harlot, Mother."

"Oh?" she turned and looked at her daughter. "Are you not? I return to my home to find that it has been defiled by my flesh, one that I have borne from my own womb, as she… romps with some… some stranger? Some reject of society and culture? Some… half breed?" The anger flared her nostrils, and while her voice was slightly raised in volume, she was not yelling.

Michaela wished that she was.

"Mother, I love him –"

"How could you do this to me? A scarlet woman. A whore. Disrespectful to your father's memory!"

"Mother, we're married!"

The word echoed throughout the bedchamber, Michaela obviously hurt by the last declaration and Elizabeth beyond shocked at what just came forth from her daughter's lips.

"You're… what?"

"Married." She took a deep breath and stepped closer to her mother. "We eloped. A couple months after our engagement."

Elizabeth sat down hard on the bed and stared at her daughter as if she had just spoken Russian to her, and had magically grown a second and third head.

"Impossible."

"Oh, it's possible. And we might as well be honest, here and now." She stepped even closer. "I'm pregnant."

The words were hard to press out of her throat, and she watched her mother's unchanging face.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No. I refuse to believe this. I refuse to acknowledge this. How could you do this to me? How could you do this to yourself? Your engagement… everything is ruined! Just so you could please some mountain man who never learned how to dress himself? You cannot give him a child! Have you forgotten everything that you learned? Just to give him a bastard child?"

She was becoming more angry at the insults towards Sully than the ones directed towards her, but referring to their unborn child as a bastard made her furious. "How can you say that about your own grandchild? A…a… a bastard?" The tone expressed her pain at the word. "Just because you were not in attendance to our wedding? Simply because Sully is not… is not Boston? Sully is the kindest, gentlest, best man I have ever known! I am proud to be his wife. And even more proud to have a child with him!"

"What about David?" Elizabeth said, her face reminding Michaela of a time when her father had tricked Elizabeth into eating a sour candy.

But what about David? What did she mean? She looked down to her hands, running the fingers of her right hand over the three rings on her left hand, trying to understand. "David is gone."

"Nonsense!"

Michaela's head shot up. What did her mother mean? "David was lost to the war nearly a decade ago, if you so recall." She was not lying; she was not lying about David.

"David informed me that you were to be married this spring."

She physically faltered at her mother's words after she finally managed to process them and assured herself that she had not misinterpreted or misheard. But Elizabeth did not notice her daughter wavering, and continued.

"How could you do this to him? After everything that he meant to you? To go off and leave him for some pauper? In leather rags? And… and…" She could not bring herself to verbally express the existence of a child and waved her hands to indicate what she was referring to. "He at least had the decency to be honest with me. To tell me about your renewed engagement. Did you think it funny to play these men against one another? David had such hope in his eyes…"

Michaela had finally fallen to her knees, swaying as her mother continued to ramble about how David was brilliant and Sully belonged in the gutter. The insults were no longer burdening her. _David informed me that you were to be married this spring._

He was alive. "He's alive," she whispered, unaware of the fact that her mother had finally noticed.

"Michaela? What are you doing? Of course David is alive, have you completely lost your senses?"

There was a knock on the door that interrupted any potential answer from Michaela, followed by its opening slightly after several moments of no answer.

It was Sully.

He had behaved and given them time together. He had paced in her bedroom. Then after retrieving a shirt, he had paced outside of Elizabeth's bedroom. Many of the words had reached his ears, and he had felt love for Michaela, as well as worry. She had defended them, held her resolve. While some of what Elizabeth said he knew was not only playing upon her fears and insecurities, there was more that was just plain cruel.

Upon finding Michaela on the floor, he had stepped over the threshold and moved to help her stand. He glared at Elizabeth, noting the distaste in her eyes for his entrance into her room, and possibly his simple existence, but disregarded it.

"Ya okay?" he whispered.

"David is alive," she breathed, clinging to him. Any strength that she had felt when she entered the room had been dismissed as soon as revelation about David's fate had come to pass.

"What?" He faltered and his voice resembled a hiss. "How do ya know?"

Elizabeth did not appreciate secrets. She was insulted that they had never told her about the wedding, and she honestly believed that they were out to kill her when Michaela mentioned a child. But now they were whispering about David behind her back? Why were they so scared?

"Would anyone care to tell me what is going on here?"

Sighing, Sully held onto Michaela and looked at Elizabeth. "David…David changed."

"The war ruined him," Michaela breathed out, finally finding the strength to support her own weight and she looked at her mother.

"Nonsense, he was here a few weeks ago. He informed me that you had found one another once again and were to be married this spring. He said he did not want to wait. That is why I sent for you, Michaela."

What Harrison and Martha had said finally began to make sense. David had approached her mother. It was her engagement to David that had her excited in the letter. A faked engagement. The gall that David had, to approach her mother and lie to her!

"No, Mrs. Quinn. He's very sick. He…" He gulped. "He hurt Michaela."

"He did not! You are both being ridiculous. David has done nothing of the sort. Honestly, Michaela! Do you think that I would believe these fanciful lies? Just so you could justify going into his bed?" The repulsed look upon Elizabeth's face told Sully all that he needed to know.

"You don't believe us, do you?"

"Should I? These preposterous lies. If anything was wrong with David, I would have known it. How incredibly ridiculous, all of this!"

Michaela found her voice and glared at her mother. "If we are so preposterous, Mother, then we shall no longer remain in your household!" They could find a hotel for the night and take a train to St. Louis as soon as the next ticket was available.

"Wait," Sully stopped her as she tried to leave the room and Michaela had every intent on shoving him out of her way, but something in his eyes checked her and she paused. "We're all angry. And tired. Ya don't got t'believe us, Mrs. Quinn. But maybe we should talk 'bout this t'morrow or somethin'."

Mrs. Quinn looked at him, wondering if he hadn't recommended this so they could have a bed in which to sleep upon. But she saw something in his eyes that made her think there could have been more to it than simple finances. Sighing heavily and dramatically, she looked at her stubborn daughter. "I do not care what you do. Either of you. Leave me alone and get out of my room."

Not even bothering to acknowledge her mother's presence once again, Michaela left the room with Sully following close behind. When they returned to her room, she immediately went to the window and looked out it. "I do not wish to stay here with her, Sully."

"She's yer Ma."

"She certainly has not acted as such. And to invite… him into her home?"

"Hey," he walked up behind her and placed his large hands upon her shoulders and rubbed them gently. "She didn't know. We didn't tell her, remember? She didn't know 'bout David. She didn't know 'bout the weddin'."

A tear crept out the corner of her eye. "And now she knows about the wedding and our child." She choked on the last word and placed her hands over her lower abdomen. "And David…" Another sob escaped her throat as she turned and buried her face into his chest. "He was angry when he thought I was carrying your child before, Sully. What if he finds us again? And…" The braveness that she had felt while confronting her mother began to dissipate under the protective cover of Sully's warmth.

"He ain't gonna hurt ya. But we gotta do somethin', Michaela."

The unspoken worries that they both knew the other had were breathed into the air that was swallowed by the other. If he found Michaela, what would he do to her now? How could they get help if there was no proof? If Elizabeth did not believe them, they would have nothing to serve as evidence. And if they ran away, David would surely find them.

"What if… we went to Oregon territory?"

"How many doctors do ya know that are female with the name Quinn?"

"I'll change it to Sully."

"I'd haveta change my name, too." He pulled her tighter into his embrace, running his fingers through her hair. "We just need a couple days to think."

She looked around their room where the day before they had expressed their love so deeply, so infinitely. It was where he had found out that he was being given a chance at fatherhood with Michaela. And he could not bear to see her say goodbye to her mother under such strained terms.

"If ya say goodbye forever, Michaela, you'll always regret it."

"Do you think that she will ever forgive me for this contravention?

* * *

The rest of the day was nothing short of painful for everyone in the household. After freshening up, Elizabeth did in fact leave her room and moved about her household as though nothing had happened. She believed that since it was her home, and Michaela was obviously in the wrong, she did not need to change her schedule.

At one point, when she had been leaving her bedroom, Sully had been walking down the hallway. He heard Elizabeth patting down the hall and turned to Harrison, who had been dusting a candlestick.

"Hide me." He whispered.

Harrison looked around and opened a linen closet, where Sully remained until Elizabeth had passed by.

It was so hard to believe that just twenty four hours ago, the house had been filled with the love and hope that had overfilled Michaela and Sully's hearts. Harrison and Martha refrained from speaking unless absolutely necessary, if only to prevent Elizabeth from ranting about how disgraceful her daughter was to the family.

That afternoon, partially to avoid her mother and partially to be alone with one another, Sully and Michaela had gone to the park for a nice walk. They did not exchange words; they knew what was weighing upon one another's minds. Purposely missing tea with her sisters, she had been informed by Martha that there would be no dinner with the family in honour of her arrival.

Michaela was less than surprised.

Elizabeth nearly died in shock when she saw them head up the stairs together, shortly after she had finished dinner and they had requested it sent to their room.

_Their_ room.

She could not understand it, and would not accept it. She watched as Sully placed a hand around Michaela's waist.

"I will not permit you to share a room together." She said, faking her confidence and looking at them both.

Michaela stiffened at the declaration, her multicoloured eyes hiding their beauty to the world for a few moments. The anger, the sadness, even the humiliation that she hadn't considered properly before her mother brought it up was mixing together with the fear that David would do something to her, to Sully, to their unborn child. She felt Sully's strong hand in the small of her back, his touch demonstrating his support and love while he waited for her reaction. She turned to look at him, catching the glimpse of his blues before she turned her gaze towards her mother.

No words were spoken, but the expression in her eyes articulated every possible sensation that was roaring through her head. Her love for Sully, it was thicker than blood, and Elizabeth knew that Michaela would not listen. Not about this, not ever again. The older woman's shoulder shifted just slightly, barely noticeable to the common eye due to decades of self discipline from expression emotion before another. But Michaela saw it. And once she did, her head turned back and the couple began to ascend the stairs.

Once in their bedroom, Sully carefully assisted her out of her clothing and into her nightgown. When he turned to place her robe around her shoulders, he saw the tears in her eyes.

"Michaela?" he reached out to cup her cheek, wiping the moisture away.

"I want to go home," she whispered, dropping her chin as she rested her hands upon her abdomen.

Immediately reaching for her, he drew her into his embrace and stroked her hair. "I know. We just gotta make sure that your Ma is okay. That he won't hurt her to get back t'ya."

"How, Sully?" she cried. "There isn't anything that we can do! Why does she have to be so… stubborn? So blind?"

He did not comment on the stubbornness, but continued to hold her as she cried. He would protect her, he promised himself that he would. Nothing would happen.

When she finally pulled back from his chest, she sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I suspect that the pregnancy is making me rather emotional," she tried to brush it off.

"Along with the stress…" he added. "Ya feelin' alright? Need me t'get ya anythin'?"

She shook her head. "I am going to head down to the kitchen and find a small roll. Martha did not remember to send them up." She indicated to the food on the table, to which there was a noticeable lack of bread basket.

"I can get it for ya…" Sully offered, wanting to do anything to help her. But she shook her head.

"I will be right back." She took a deep breath and left. She hoped her mother was not about.

She descended the steps and went towards the kitchen. A noise distracted her in the now darkened kitchen, making her slightly concerned. "Martha?" she called out, looking around as her eyes attempted to adjust to the light. When she heard a footstep behind her, she began to turn but was stopped. Strong hands wrapped around her torso and her mouth, pulling her back into the muscular chest of a man that was not Sully. The panic formed in her throat as she struggled, but it did no good. No one came to her rescue and she tried to cease her movements so as not to struggle so much to harm her unborn child, but with an impact of the capture's fist to her head, she fell into the frightening unconsciousness, her hand hitting a rouge teacup which soon shattered upon the floor.

Sully fidgeted on his place at the side of the bed. Something was wrong. But they were safely in the house. Regardless, he knew in his heart that he had to check on Michaela. The feeling from the night before settled into his stomach, stronger. Despite the fact that she had left moments before, he had to see her again.

He walked down the hallway until he heard the sound of something breaking from the kitchen. Silently, he prayed that it was Martha and she had dropped something while washing the dishes. Or Harrison dropped something very expensive while dusting, despite the late hour. He heard shuffling as he came closer to the kitchen and moved faster. When he entered, he saw nothing. No candles, no light except what was stolen from the hallway and the night.

"Michaela?" he called out. He felt a cloth over his mouth and he tried to struggle against the two pairs of arms that were wrapped around him, but he eventually failed and was forced to give into the silent darkness. The last thoughts that ran through his mind were regarding the safety of his wife, and his unborn, unannounced child that slept unaware in her womb.


	16. Chapter 16

He was not certain what woke him up. The murmuring that sung through the air. The tight ropes around his wrists. The awkward position that held him against the wall. The throbbing pain at the back of his head and his jaw.

His head rocked from side to side, his breathing suddenly heavier as he fought to come to consciousness. In the distance, he saw Michaela. He had to get to her. He had to wake up…

There she was, tied up at her ankles and feet, her arms suspended above her. A gag was pressed against her mouth, slightly dampened from the tears that cascaded down her cheeks.

"Look who has decided to wake up," the voice echoed through the chamber as the sound of a body hitting the ground provoked Sully to snap his head to the right. A man he had never seen before in his life was on the ground. And the man he never wanted to see again was standing over him.

"Let her go, David!" He snarled, immediately trying to free himself of his bindings. The burning of the rope was a back thought as he watched the perverted madman walk towards his wife.

Michaela stared at him, her eyes burning with fear but with strength. She would not let David win this time. Her skin hurt. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest.

She wasn't certain how much time had passed since her head had been hit. She had woken up with David and some larger man bringing in Sully. The surroundings were different, but she knew where they were. It was the parlour of the house that belonged to David's parents. When Sully had regained consciousness, she felt a surge of strength come through her. As long as he was alright, they would survive this. As David looked at her, she felt exposed but raised her chin defiantly. Never again would the fear claim her heart as it had before. Too many things had come to pass and she was not willing to give up so easily.

"You… you were not supposed to be here." He looked at Sully, his eye alight with something that worried the couple. "She was to come alone. And then… then everything would have been proper. We would have been married and I would have made everything clean and clear. I would have forgiven you, Michaela. Your mother would have gotten over the loss of her youngest daughter, but it would have been necessary. She would have learned to understand. To understand why you had to be taken away from the living. I would have saved you, and you would have saved me. We would have made one another clean, Michaela. But you did not come to your senses. You brought him. But that is fine." He reached down to cup her cheek and ran his fingers softly over her flesh. Abruptly, he pulled his hand back and threw the force of his muscles into her face.

Sully visibly flinched with her, trying to pull himself away from the wall so that he might beat this horrific creature into a bloodied pulp, but he was tied to a metal ring that was attached to the fireplace. "Michaela?" he whispered out. When David stepped to the side, he saw the blood on her cheek that flowed from her mouth, but she kept looking at him. If she kept looking at him, he knew that she would be okay. "Please? Let her go," he quietly begged.

"No."

David went to a table and withdrew a box similar to the one Sully had seen in Michaela's clinic which held all of her father's tools. Michaela watched, waiting, her hands tried to undo the small knots despite her stiffening fingers.

"You were supposed to wait, Michaela. But you didn't. And then you came to Boston and I was going to find my redemption and spare you your shame. Your shame from having been with… him…" He indicated over his shoulder at Sully as a large blade was withdrawn from the box. "But you had to tag along with her, didn't you? You had to chase after her, nipping at her heels. You could not leave well-enough alone, could you?"

Michaela stared at the blade in wide eyes, pulling back from David as she tried to make herself appear smaller. This was not David, this was not her David, this was not the man she had once loved. He had changed, he had become something else, he had manifested into a creature that was the result of war. Closing her eyes, she heard Sully lash out at him verbally, her name spoken with such love intermixed with his bitter words.

"I had to figure out a way in which to punish both of you. I have it now. Since you have taken from me my redemption through Michaela, I will be free by punishing you both. You will watch as I purify her wretched soul and grant her peace. Once she is dead… I will send you to hell." A hand reached out and grasped her arm, fighting with her until the pain became unbearable for Michaela. His fingertips were pressing into the skin of her arm, and she felt the bruises rise to the surface. But she never broke her eye contact with Sully.

The anticipation was the worst. He wanted to believe that this was a dream and that he would awaken to find that he had fallen asleep while Michaela had gone down the stairs to retrieve some bread. That she would be sitting beside him and he could hold her tightly.

But it was not a dream, and he watched with pained eyes as David tore the sleeve of Michaela's bodice and drew the knife across her porcelain skin. He began to conduct an artistic onslaught of the blade's cool edge across the skin. The blood was slow to rise, a few moments phased between the initial invasions of her skin to the seeming boiling blood up to the surface of the epidermis, resembling a red culmination. Vines that trailed along her arms resembled the pellinoire curls of her hair for a ball, weeping her pain. The cool stained metal was drug across the bodice of her dress around her curves, cutting through fabric and skin, before he ripped off the other sleeve and permitted the metallic onslaught upon strictly skin.

"I would have given you the world," he mocked as the blade finally touched her abdomen and she was terrified that he knew of their child. "I would have given you everything. Why did you deny me?" Wanting an answer, he took the tip and pressed it to her side, indicating that he would stab her if he did not receive an answer.

She had been too afraid to move. Too afraid to speak. Sweat from the stress had begun to culminate upon her brow and her breathing was rapid and irregular. The pain was felt, and she winced in response, but she never cried out at the burning pain she felt along her upper body. His cold hands ran over her cheek, and she was afraid that if she opened her eyes to look at Sully, he would not be there.

He did not even beg for David to stop. His mouth opened and closed as he watched the blade trail over her skin. He saw blood, Michaela's blood, staining the lavender colouring of her dress. He felt the tears prickle in his eyes, staring at the monstrous creature before him. "No," he whispered. "No!" The assault on his bindings began once more, possessed with the inherent need to protect his wife and unborn child. His skin was tightening in response to the chaffing from the ropes, but his pain was nothing when he saw her.

"Go. Away. I am not yours." She whispered. He hit her once more and before she could realise what was happening, she felt warmth spread across her leg. She looked down and saw only blood.

"Michaela!" Sully screamed, the ropes coming loose and before he could think, he and David were upon the floor once more.

Memories from their first fight flooded Sully, but this time he was not fatigued from finding them. The rain had not stiffened his muscles, his joints were not sore from constantly walking, and he saw it. He had been a witness. Every fibre of his being went into harming the man that had dared to take away his life as he knew it.

Neither was aware of when they were on top of the other, nor did they ever realise who had the upper hand. David viewed him as an intruder, someone who was never meant to be a part of his life. Sully had taken away his chance at redemption.

The sound of the body nearby shifting was lost to them amidst their grunts and groans.

To one another, they were thieves. Intruders. Neither belonged. They would find their world within the woman who tried to struggle against her bindings.

David would find rebirth through her death; Sully would find hope through her life.

Struggling continuously, Sully cried out shortly at the pain he felt in his shoulder. The knife that had Michaela's blood coating it had pierced him and he pulled back out of instinct. Relieved of the weight that he had been fighting against, David stood up near the doorway.

But miscalculated.

The left foot hit the floor. The right stepped back, but did not come in contact with the floor. It hit the air that was above the top step of the stairs leading to the room. Panting and out of wits, his hands reached forward but grasped nothing. The sickening sound of breaking bones accentuated the song that was made by his fall until a rest with a never-ending fermata. Sully stared as the sounds of the body descending down the stairs echoed around him. When David made no movement to stand, Sully reached the discarded knife on the floor and went down the steps. He found David's body twisted in awkward ways, his chest unmoving.

He was dead.

"Sully!" Michaela cried out from the room. Remembering the blood that had coated her skin, he bounded up the steps and returned to her. The pain in his shoulder was temporarily suppressed or forgotten, but regardless unimportant as he cut through Michaela's ropes. The fear in her eyes made his stomach tighten into a large knot.

"Michaela?" he was asking her a dozen questions just by speaking her name.

"Sully," she gasped, feeling her lower body in pain. "I think I'm losing the baby."

* * *

Sully had felt numb as the doctors took Michaela away from him. He had not even reacted when they stitched him up. He was staring at nothing, only aware of the fact that he was covered in blood. _Michaela's blood_, he thought to himself as they shut the door. A nurse was attempting to get information out of him, but he could not comprehend the questions that she was asking him. He leaned against a wall near the door which Michaela had been taken away through, his head swaying back and forth with the weight of the pain that he had been forced to realise in the last hour.

"Mr. Sully?" A man came up beside him and Sully looked at him. He wanted to throw up.

"Yeah?" It was a hoarse response.

"The man that was on the floor of the room, he woke up. His name is Phillip. He was hired by Dr. Lewis to assist. Everything that you attempted to articulate to the nurses as they brought in your fiancé has been reinforced by him, regarding his motive and general insanity. He was coherent enough to acknowledge that you did not push Dr. Lewis."

"Wife." Was the response.

"Excuse me?"

"Michaela's my wife."

"Oh. My deepest apologies. Phillip said that Dr. Lewis believed you two have only been engaged." There was a polite silence. "One of my men has gone to fetch Mrs. Quinn." Still no response from the long haired man. "How is your wife?"

The response was Sully shaking his head as he bit his lips. Politely, the man left him to grieve and Sully felt the pale light of the receding moon shine down upon his face. He walked towards the window, staring up at the sky as the tears finally began to slide down his cheeks. His arms stretched down, his palms exposed and he fell to his knees.

_Please,_ he cried out in his head. _Please, don't do this to me again. I'll do anythin'. Just don't hurt her. Take me, instead. She ain't done nothin' wrong. She's a doctor! She can help people! Me? I ain't worth a lick of salt. Don't. Don't take my wife, don't take my baby. Please, don't take my wife. Please, don't take the baby._

Ten words were said over and over in his head. Please, don't take my wife. Please, don't take my baby.

His heart beat to the tempo in which these words were inaudibly articulated. His blood pulsed so loudly in his ears that he couldn't think. If one would write poetry, the visions of the man's face amongst the darkness that embraced his shoulders would invoke images of the night, apparitions of dark kings found within a deck of tarot cards of gypsies. Of weeping willows, lagoons, and midwinter nights spent wandering aimlessly, lost and alone amid ruined Indian holy lands whose oracles fell silent in current times, when the old gods died as the blood of the Cheyenne fed Mother Earth.

Finally, he heard footsteps. Afraid of the news that would be brought, he took a deep breath before standing and wiping away his tears.


	17. Chapter 17

"Mrs. Quinn." He stared at the short woman.

"Mr. Sully." She was forever a stoic. "Where is my daughter?"

He did not know what to feel just then and remained decidedly quiet for a few moments.

Sighing, she expressed an emotion. Irritation. "Mr. Sully? Where is Michaela?"

He pointed to the door that they had taken her away through. "In… in there."

"Is she going to be alright? I certainly hope the best medical care has been provided, or mark my words…"

He did not know the answer. His lips parted to speak and he looked everywhere but at her. Finally, he spoke, his voice cracking at the words. "He hit her… and cut her… there was blood. She thought she was losin' the baby."

Elizabeth took this information in slowly, looking down upon the ground. She did not know what to say to the man before her. He was so different. He was no whom she would have decided to be the husband for her daughter. And while his pain was so obvious in his voice, in his eyes, his very heart revealed to the world as she had interrupted his prayer to spirits, one that had been so well rehearsed a few years previously, she could not accept what had happened.

"Perhaps… perhaps it is for the best." She said, swallowing afterwards. "You could at the very least have a proper ceremony-"

He could not take this anymore. "No."

"Excuse me? Are manners a concept for you? To interrupt!"

"And I'm sayin' no." He turned and looked at her, truly looked at her for everything that she was beyond the superficial facade, and in this forced Elizabeth to truly look at him for the first time. Not for the preference of buckskins, not for the beads that he still wore, not for the hair that hung to his shoulders. "Tell me… tell me how it is 'right' and 'proper' for your daughter to…" He felt such anger and confusion that his words were spoken slowly, as if restricting himself from overreacting. "To go through the loss of a child? To possibly be lost herself?"

"I am not saying that I want Michaela–"

"How?!" His chest heaved with emotions. "How can you call yourself a mother if ya'd let her go through that so she won't have a rumour 'bout her? Just 'cause she ain't had a fancy weddin'? Just so your grandkid ain't called a 'bastard'? How can ya think a miscarriage is the right answer? Especially," he choked. "Especially if Michaela might not make it." He shook his head and looked down at the shirt he wore for Michaela in Boston. "I'm covered with her blood. I'm covered in your daughter's blood, Mrs. Quinn. I am covered in my _wife's_ blood."

Elizabeth could not speak at that, looking at the blood over his shirt. She had not taken into consideration where the dark stains had come from. Starring in horror at the colour, she expressed fear for the first time since Sully had known her.

"I can't lose another wife, ma'am. And I don't care if we ain't had a preacher. It don't matter if we did. Vows are vows. Lotsa folks take 'em in front of a whole lotta people and a reverend and don't keep 'em. I'm gonna keep 'em because… I love her. And I'll do anythin' for her. And an expensive weddin' wouldn't ever make that more true."

There was a pause. Sully had never been one to be so verbal, and Elizabeth knew that there had been more spoken from his mouth towards her in the last few minutes than all their other conversations together combined. When he moved to speak once more, she felt her heart pounding deeper into pain.

"Do ya actually hate her? She's your daughter. She's… the most beautiful person I have ever known. She's the only person I want t'know."

The silence was tense between the two, both of them afraid to breathe for worry of discovering that he had truly spoken those words aloud. Elizabeth was humbled by them, Sully was strengthened by them. If he felt so passionately towards her, perhaps Michaela would be given extra vigour to survive. Elizabeth looked at him for a few moments and without further processional, turned and walked down the hallway, away from him. He watched until she was gone, and long after, until the latch of a door echoed down the hall.

"Mr. Sully?" A voice came from the now opened door. "I'm Dr. Ralston. I came in shortly after I received the hospital's message regarding Mike." The older gentleman walked towards Sully and extended his hand. Sully nodded and momentarily forgot that he was supposed to take the hand, but eventually shook it.

"Michaela? She's…?"

"Mike is fine. She was not experiencing contractions, as she had speculated. It was a result from the stab wound, but in her confusion she mistook the pain for a miscarriage. We were able to stitch it up."

"The baby?"

Dr. Ralston offered a soft smile. "The baby is fine. We have no cause to be concerned at this moment. But I would prefer it if we monitored Mike for a while, just in case. She has been through much stress recently, and she was already weakened to begin with."

Sully nodded and wanted to hug the doctor but refrained. "How long?"

"A week here. Assuming there are no complications, and if we are comfortable, I would like her to rest a week at home before returning to Colorado Springs. And for the trip…"

"I'll make sure she takes it easy," Sully vowed. "And we'll take our time on the trip back." He nodded and finally the feeling of relief washed over him and he let out a nervous chuckle.

Dr. Ralston understood and patted the man on his back. "She's waiting for you, Sully. She wants to see you."

Nodding, Sully followed him into the room. The nurses and another doctor left before Dr. Ralston smiled at the both of them and left them alone.

The doctors hovering over her head been difficult and she had been a difficult patient because she knew what they were saying. The blood loss had not been as much as she had originally believed, but she had overheard from one of the nurses that the blood on her clothes was partially Sully's, just as part of the blood on Sully's clothes was her own.

The pain in her abdomen had frightened her so much. When Sully had brought her into the hospital, begging for assistance from anyone who would listen, she had merely become numb to the idea of taking charge of the situation. Her baby. She could not lose her baby. She saw Sully taken away from her by the persistence and persuasion of several nurses while she had been examined. When Dr. Ralston had arrived, she was grateful for the kind face. The police had poked their head in at one point, but Dr. Ralston chased them out with his baritone voice and the threat of sedating them all.

Dr. Ralston had calmly explained that in her panic, she had misinterpreted the pain from the stab wound as contractions. But the wound was clean, had calmly been stitched, and was now in the process of healing. The various vines of sliced skin had been disinfected and wrapped, though no stitches were required. Her arms and torso were now wrapped in thin gauze and she recalled reading books about the mummies of Egypt and wondered if this was how they would feel if they were alive. Her face was sore from David's fists and the multicoloured eyes spoke of pain. Her shoulders were strained from the awkward position which he had bound her in and her wrists were sprained from attempting to pull out of the ropes. But the baby was alive and she would heal.

Upon Sully's entrance and the subsequent departure of her entourage, she looked up at him. She saw his blood stained shirt and became worried. "Sully?"

He stepped towards her, lowering himself beside her bed and reaching for her hand. The two metallic rings had been removed by the insistence of the nurses. But the leather band remained.

"I'm here, Michaela."

"The baby is okay," she smiled, reaching her hand up painfully to caress his hair. He grasped her hand softly and pulled it to his lips.

"I know. Dr. Ralston told me." His hand hesitantly went out towards her abdomen but he pulled back, afraid that his touch might harm her.

She noticed the movement and brought his hand to her stomach and held it there lovingly. "I see what we have begun together. With absolute clarity, I see the path that is before us and what we must do."

He looked up at her, his gaze encouraging her to continue.

"Hold onto love."

* * *

_Okay kids. The author is moving to another hemisphere tomorrow, so it might be a little while before I can post the next chapter. Please be patient and I promise it will be worth it. - Minnie_


	18. Chapter 18

Horace knew that Brian was coming. Every day after school, Colleen would go and open the clinic while Brian rushed next door to inquire regarding a telegram from his Ma. Unfortunately, Horace received a telegram today from Boston and he knew that the news was not happy.

Thankfully, as Brian rushed up the step into the telegraph office, Matthew was right behind him. The older boy removed his hat upon entering the small structure and nodded politely to Horace.

"Afternoon, Horace. Brian and me were wonderin'…" He smiled lightly and rested his hand upon his younger brother's hat-covered head.

"Telegram. Right here." Horace handed the piece of paper to Matthew and stared at him, waiting to see if he would open in front of him.

Matthew smiled and looked at the paper, reading the few lines over and over again. His face began to fall and he stared at the paper with hope that it would change what it said. When Colleen entered, he did not hear her arrival, but continued to read the parchment over and over again.

"What's it say?" Brian demanded, looking at Colleen with a pout that Matthew wasn't reading it aloud.

The piece of paper was silently handed to Colleen.

"'To Matthew, Colleen and Brian Cooper. Colorado Springs, Colorado Territory. From Mrs. Elizabeth Quinn, Beacon Hill, Boston, Massachusetts. Your mother was kidnapped by a man named David Lewis yesterday. She is currently in the hospital. She is fine, but she will have to recover before she can travel. All of my love. Grandma.'" Colleen dropped her hand with the piece of paper, looking straight at Matthew as she felt a strange weighted sensation against her heart.

"But he was gone," Brian whispered. "How'd he get her in Boston? When's she comin' back?" The tears were prickling on his eyes. "Sully promised they'd hurry!" The lip curled under. "I hate David! I wish he had never come here! I wish they'd never left! He shoulda stayed dead!"

The little boy took off out of the telegraph office and down the street. Loren saw him running, the tears reflecting the fall sun off of his cheeks, and the older man moved to intercept him. Catching him into his arms, he held Brian.

"What's wrong, boy?"

"It's Ma!" He cried out, burying his face into Loren's shoulder. Colleen and Matthew watched helplessly from the telegraph office.

"What happened to her? Dr. Mike is all right, ain't she?" The shock was a bit much. They were in Boston. It was hardly as dangerous as Colorado.

"David. David hurt her…" his voice trembled.

He had heard her speak that name before. They had been sitting at the bench in front of Maude and Abigail's graves. _David and I were so much in love._ "Her old fiancé? He's dead, boy!"

Shaking his head, his hat fell onto the dusty street. "He was alive. He kidnapped her and broke her after Myra and Horace's weddin'" He sniffled. "And now she's hurt in Boston. I gotta get to Boston and help her, Mr. Bray. I gotta make sure she ain't broken no more."

Attempting to make sense of this, Loren recalled back to after the Bing wedding. That naturalist. He had taken Dr. Mike. "His name was Andrew Strauss, Brian."

"No," he pulled back and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "He was pretendin' t'be someone else. And he hurt Ma! Help me get to Boston, Mr. Bray!"

Shaking his head, Loren took what the boy said as truth. He knew that the children and Sully had been hiding something from him when it came to that Strauss fella. And the vehement declaration made by Brian led Loren to know that it was truth. What had he done to Dr. Mike the first time? She had acted so strange. Had Sully and she broken their engagement? He knew that the rumours would have run rampant that Strauss, Lewis, whoever he was had raped her. Loren had heard the speculation in the store a few times, but had quickly shot it down. Wasn't right to have those rumours, especially when he knew they weren't true. Dr. Mike meant too much for that particular rumour to run rampant.

Then he remembered that the children had stayed in town for some healing ceremony of Sully's with the Injuns. The next day, there had been a strip of leather around her finger. He wanted to ask Brian if they had married, but he shook his head. Boy was upset. No use in getting information about his hurt Ma like that.

"Brian. Dr. Mike would want ya t'stay here. If there ain't a telegram tomorrow, we'll send one. And if nothing by the end of the week, I'll take ya to Boston myself."

* * *

Sully stared at the room, the smell making his stomach turn in more awkward ways than when he had done the trapeze act. There was the body, underneath the white sheet, in the middle of the room that represented death. There was no one else in the room. For that, he was grateful.

Stepping towards the death soaked bed, he looked at the covered body with a strange emotion. Sully had felt flickers of hatred before. At the government for what they did to the Cheyenne. At the stupidity of people when it harmed Michaela or innocent people. At himself and the spirit world when Hannah and Abigail had died.

But this was a hatred that he was unfamiliar with. It was nauseating him beyond the smell and the death. This was a different hatred because while Abigail had died from childbirth, Sully was now granted with a face to blame. Not Fate or The Will of God as the preacher had told him. He actually had a tangible person. Someone to be angry at for nearly destroying his world. Despite the fact that David was dead, there was still someone, something to blame that was not called Fate or The Will of God.

Sully hated Fate and The Will of God. It was how people felt better when bad things happened to them. Being late for an important event, suffering from a broken wagon wheel in the middle of a storm, finding the love of your life. But losing the love that only time could stand still for was a different story all together. It was a different entity. It was not The Will of God. Certainly not the same fates that made you late for church or give you the winning hand at poker.

Stepping towards the corpse, he found that he had become numb to the smell. Numb to the silence. This was a silence that he did not find in the woods, and he realised that all those years by himself he had never truly been alone. There had been the wind, the river, the rain, the birds, the animals. But this was genuine silence, the outside world oblivious to the deathly solitude in this room.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the sheet that covered the body and pulled it back. There was David. Lifeless, pointless, no longer a threat. It was strange, to think that this thing had brought so much terror and strife into their lives.

"You're dead," he whispered, the soft sound echoing off of the walls. It send shivers down his spine and he shuddered off the strange sensation.

"You ain't gonna hurt her anymore." He continued to speak to him, as he had spoken to the dead both aloud and in the confines of his mind. It made him feel some closure. _I needed t'see for myself. That you were really dead. What I don't get, though… how someone like Michaela, who ain't harmed no one, who is beautiful. Perfect. How could she love someone like you?_

He paused and sighed, the inner turmoil obvious on his face. _I haveta believe she wouldn't fall in love with a monster. And that's what ya were David. Maybe you became one. War hurts people in a lotta ways. But if I accept that ya changed, then I have to accept that you became this. And ya just did it 'cause ya couldn't think straight. And ya weren't strong enough for Michaela. And I can't hate ya for bein' weak, and I can't hate ya for not being strong enough because that would insult Michaela._

His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. _I hate what ya did to us. And I want t'hate ya. But I want the love in my heart. Ain't no room for hate when I got a wife t'love and a babe on the way. You'll never know that joy. And after what you did, I wish I could say ya never deserve to._

But it didn't matter what he felt. As Sully left the morgue, he knew in his heart the truth. Whether David was inherently good or bad, whether he had been driven to insanity, whether he was worthy of Michaela's love before the war or not, it was not for him to judge. David would never know the happiness that Sully found. And while hating David could be an insult to Michaela, it would be a greater insult to not love her with every available part of his heart.

* * *

The week at the hospital was bearable for Michaela only due to the fact that she slept through a great portion of it. Sully spent most of his time nearby, reading poetry to her, discussing the future, discussing their children, both the unborn and the living. Other times, when the nurses would leave them be, they would sit together within one another's embrace in silence.

He had telegrammed the children about what had happened, oblivious to the one that Elizabeth had sent. It was detailed. _Your ma was hurt, but she's getting better. We'll come home when she's better. If everything goes well, we will leave in two weeks. We miss you and love you. _He had sent them a telegram every day since then, letting them know that they would be leaving on time and that Michaela was getting better.

Rebecca and Marjorie visited. Rebecca was, as predicted, understanding and clucking over her sister similar to a hen. Marjorie made a few snide comments, but when she saw that it was impossible to provoke shame within Michaela, she gave up and attempted to share in the happiness as a sister. As much as she could, at least. Though that did not prevent her from heckling Sully on a consistent basis.

True to form, Elizabeth did not make another appearance at the hospital, though Rebecca informed the couple that her love was sent.

At one point, Sully had needed air and Michaela had insisted on a long bath, so she sent him out into Boston with Rebecca for the purpose of buying a dress for Colleen.

Sully had thought it was a joke. But Michaela had been serious.

Sully felt as if he had been dragged to every store in New England all within a three hour period, Colleen's measurements on the slip of paper in his hand, as Rebecca raved about each dress more so than the one before. He had remained relatively impartial. At one point, they had found a very formal, beautiful purple dress, but Sully had stared at the neckline and told Rebecca that Colleen wouldn't wear that.

"_She is a young woman, Sully!"_

"_Yeah, that's my point. She's young."_

"_The men would love it."_

"_I know! That's the problem!"_

"_Sully, she will be courted soon enough!"_

"_Not wearin' that dress, she ain't."_

Finally they had compromised. Much to Rebecca's shock, Sully had found a brown and blue dress that he thought might look good on Colleen. Rebecca had even admitted that it was quite stylish.

And Sully had approved of the neckline.

Michaela had been moved into her mother's house at the beginning of the week, feeling lazy though secretly enjoying the relaxation that had come with her required bed rest. Even though she was restless to get back to work or at least do something. It was a conundrum, and she was aware of it. Elizabeth avoided their room at all costs, refusing to acknowledge that Sully and Michaela were sharing the same bed under her roof. Often times, such as today, she only came downstairs for the various social calls that she maintained with the upper crust of Boston society.

They would be leaving the morning after next, much to Michaela's relief.

Sully carefully balanced the dinner tray in his hands that he had retrieved from Harrison. Elizabeth, who would not even look at him if he passed her in the hallway, was having dinner with some friends of hers so Michaela and Sully were comfortably avoiding her. He heard their formal conversation in the other room as he snuck up the stairs and could not help but roll his eyes at the mundane conversation.

Once he silently padded up the stairs and arrived at their bedroom door, he entered to find Michaela brushing her hair.

"Brought food," he smiled at her and set the tray on the made bed.

"Mmm. It smells delicious. Is that dumplings I smell?" She raised a brow and watched him move in the reflection of her mirror. He came up behind her, the broad smile upon his face and rested his hands carefully upon her shoulders as she placed the hairbrush onto her vanity.

"Yup. And I got ya some ice cream, too." He leaned down to kiss her cheek affectionately. "Harrison said that it was made with dried berries or somethin' like that. Looks good, anyway."

She cupped his hands and leaned back in her chair slightly before standing to move towards the tray. "Thank you. And it is good ice cream." But instead of moving to eat, she looked at him. The multicoloured eyes shown with words unspoken. Not once in the hospital had they properly mentioned David, with the exception of the fact that he was dead. And while she could pretend that everything was fine, and that she was not hiding anything from Sully, she did not want to keep pretending anymore.

"What is it?" He asked, reaching for her hand. For a while, her eyes had spoken to him of something that she was afraid to discuss and he had never wanted to pressure her into revealing what bothered her so. Swallowing in anticipation, he knew that the time had come. "I'm here."

She nodded. How well he could read her. "Perhaps we should sit down?"

Together they guided one another to the bed, away from the covered tray and they sat in silence for several long moments, looking down at one another's hands.

"We need to discuss David." She finally broke the silence, and her words echoed through the room.

He felt his stomach tighten slightly, but his grip never faltered. "I'm here," he reassured her.

The inner frustration was apparent on her face as she struggled with the words. "It's silly. I do not know why it has been bothering me for so long. In actuality, it is not relevant to our lives. Yet…" She sighed.

"But if ya get it out, ya won't think 'bout it no more."

There was a silence between them, each willing the other to feel their presence. It was so simple. Talk about it, and it would be the past. But the past had come back before and it seemed as if they tried to close this chapter once more, it would be forced open.

"Before David left for war, he came to me. He… he wanted us to be together. He pressed for it the night before he left." She swallowed, and waited a few moments not only to formulate the next words, but to give Sully a moment to digest what she had said.

"But ya didn't."

She shook her head. "No. No, I insisted we didn't. Finally, he conceded. In the cave, he… he was angry. He thought I was carrying your child and it was an insult to him that I gave you what he did not have. Somehow… I had betrayed him."

He gripped her hand in understanding, his eyes remaining soft and loving and perceptive.

"He… is," she stopped herself, the tears threatening her eyes and she looked up to prevent gravity from stripping them her multicoloured orbs and dropping them to her soft cheeks. "He was so different. He changed somehow. And I wondered…" She bit her lips and choked slightly.

"If he wouldn't've changed if ya… had… been with him." The idea of her having been with him was awkward. It took much of Sully's inner strength to not immediately begin to consider the possible consequences of such an act.

He sighed. He saw the pain in her eyes. The fatigue, the worry, and his heart went out to her. She was innocent. She had not done anything wrong. But whether she could be convinced of that was another worry entirely. Leaning forward slowly and gently, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

She felt his strength. It had been a lighthouse for her ever since they had met. The quiet intensity had guided her home. With William Burke, with his devotion to her children, _their_ children. He had always been there for her. And that strength that he so possessed, he was offering it to her now. Letting the tears slide down her cheeks, she finally allowed herself to cry. The panic, the fear, and she acknowledged that it could be worse due to the pregnancy, but she was tired of being strong and afraid. The very fact that she could be free of it…

And that was when it hit her. She was free. She was allowed to love Sully without guilt or fear with David.

"I would've killed him," Sully whispered. "I wanted to. After all that he had done… I just wanted to kill him. To hurt him as badly he hurt you. Us.

"But you didn't. No," she contested. "You… are capable of making such beautiful things with your hands. You create such beautiful things."

"Ya save lives with yours…"

"We created life… together."

Gripping his hand briefly, she let go of it and reached for his cheeks. They sat next to one another for a long time, her silent weeping, his silent comforting. And for the first time in months, they felt an overwhelming peace.


	19. Chapter 19

"Mr. Sully," Harrison entered the bedroom. Sully was standing before the window, carefully taking a final look from the view of the window which he had shared with his wife for far longer than they had intended. Dressed in his travelling clothes, which he didn't understand how one could chose to be so uncomfortable while travelling, the quiet moment alone was a much desired occurrence. Michaela was somewhere in the house. Martha was making some goodies for their trip home. And Harrison had just finished loading the carriage.

"Yeah?" He looked over his shoulder before the rest of his body followed. "Everything ready to go?"

"Almost, sir. It's just that we are not quite certain where Miss Mich—Mrs. Sully," he corrected himself, "can be found." He carefully watched Sully for a reaction to such news.

If he hadn't seen the corpse for himself, Sully would have immediately jumped into action. Regardless, there was a flutter in his heart and he looked to the side. "I think I know where she's at." He walked past the other man and moved towards the door at the end of the hallway.

Michaela was wrapped in the warmth of her father's giant leather chair. So many fond memories in this room. Listening to her father, learning from him, eventually consulting him on medical school questions; following that, it became patient questions. Everything remained exactly as he had left it. Harrison came in to dust, but a letter from Dr. Schnapper remained where he had left it the day he had died. The empty cup of coffee cup to the right of his desk. The fountain pen over the clean piece of paper, which Michaela had always assumed was meant for the reply letter to Dr. Schnapper.

The light cascaded through the window, catching the flying specks of dust that floated through the air. Rebecca had told her once that angel's wings left the particles in the air. Even though she knew it was not true, it did give her a sense of peace to think that perhaps the pieces floating through the air were left from her father's spirit. Foolish and immature, but it did make her feel loved nonetheless.

Her hand dropped down to her abdomen, covered only in her dressing gown as she had yet put on her travelling clothes. She was a little swollen. Her body was changing with the pregnancy. If she thought about it, she would become overwhelmed and panic at such a responsibility being placed upon her shoulders. A child to raise, one from the love which Sully and she shared. What would her father say? The words from the bitter confrontation with her mother echoed in her ears, _How could you do this to me? A scarlet woman. A whore. Disrespectful to your father's memory!_

Her father. Oh, how she missed him. She wished that he was here to make everything better. To tell her that it would be okay. Josef never openly disregarded Elizabeth's preference for the raising of their children, at least not in front of his children. But when Elizabeth's back was turned, he would still give the encouraging words to Michaela, urging her to follow her dreams.

"_Beautiful stars, aren't they, Mike?" He had interrupted her thoughts as she stared out his office window onto Canis Major and Orion, running from the Scorpion in the night sky. _

"_Yes, father. Very beautiful." They remained in a companionable silence for a few moments. "Did you need something?"_

_The strong and handsome man smiled at her softly. He walked purposefully into the room and towards her, eventually resting his hands upon either of her shoulders and giving her a reassuring squeeze. "There is something that I would like you to do for me, Mike."_

_The copper haired head turned and looked up at him lovingly, encouraging his request with her multicoloured eyes. "Do I need to get my bag?"_

_Always enthusiastic, willing to help, jump in and get her hands dirty. That was his Mike. _

"_No. It's something I would like you to promise me."_

"_Promise you? I would do anything for you, Father."_

_There was a soft smile and he looked down at her with the kind, determined eyes. Michaela had her father's eyes, despite the colouring. "I want you to do something for yourself."_

_The confusion was quickly found upon her brow, furrowing lightly. "I… don't understand, Father."_

_He settled his larger form next to her, his face remaining calm as he looked upon her. The fatherly love in his eyes alleviated any worry that had been resting in her heart. "I am so proud of you. You have done something that was a near impossibility. And I am so pleased that you have been practising by my side since your graduation. I just hope, upon all things Michaela, that you will find happiness."_

_There was the side smile so characteristic to her face. "You mean marriage."_

_Shaking his head, he chuckled lightly. "I want you to be happier in your marriage than Claudette. And Marjorie. And your sisters in general…they have a different happiness than what I have envisioned for you. I just hope you will understand what I am talking about when you have it. And never let go of it, Mike. Fight for it as you fought for medical school, acceptance. You are a fighter. Protect it. Never live for a love worth dying for. Live for a love worth fighting for. A romantic sentiment from an old man."_

"_You're not old, father."_

He had died less than a month later.

That conversation had never made sense to her. Not until after she had gone to Colorado Springs. Her children, Sully. They made her feel that. To want to protect it. Fight for it.

"He would have been proud of you," a voice echoed through the room. It was not the voice that she had been expecting. Turning in the chair to see who had entered, to confirm with her eyes what her ears had heard, she looked upon the figure with a bit of shock.

Standing before her daughter, Elizabeth Quinn held her posture with the regal nature that one could only expect from her. In one hand was a handkerchief. In the other was a piece of heavy paper. And in her face was something Michaela had not properly seen since her arrival. Compassion.

"I have always been known to be a stubborn woman." Elizabeth began, slowly walking towards her daughter and into the room of her husband. "Bullheaded. But you… even when you were a baby, you were trying me for the title of the stubbornness. Constantly battling. That was one reason I did not always try to control your relationship with your father. It was… a bit of a relief to not have to fight with you constantly." She looked to the side of the room, her brow crinkled as she thought of all the memories that had been shared in this room with her husband. "I told your father that I was expecting you when he was sitting in that very chair."

Michaela had never considered her mother old. She was regal, brilliant, beautiful, and had never really aged in the eyes of her daughter. But now, Michaela saw every wrinkle, the ones that had been there for years. Every grey hair, which Elizabeth contested that they had begun to show up around the time Michaela turned two and started sneaking around the house with her father's black bag.

"And now," she continued. "I am telling you, while you expect your first child, that he was so happy. And he would be so proud of you." She looked down, now less than a foot from where her daughter sat, a tear creeping out of her eyes. "You gave him such happiness."

Silently, the older woman extended her hand out with the piece of paper. Michaela slowly accepted it from her and turned it over to see what was written upon it.

"Official Marriage License, issued for the legal marriage of Mr. Byron Sully and Dr. Michaela Anne Quinn-Sully."

It had been dated for that summer. Obviously, Elizabeth had guessed the date of union. She was only off by a couple weeks. It was notarised. There were two signatures for the witnesses. Harrison. Martha. And at the bottom, added on a hand drawn line for a third witness, was the signature of Mrs. Elizabeth Anne Quinn. Michaela could not conceive of when her mother had done this. Nor whom she had bribed to obtain a post-dated certificate. She was speechless.

"Since I could not be there for the wedding," Elizabeth struggled over the words as she watched Michaela's reaction. "And I heard that your due date was for after the speculated completion for the train to Colorado Springs… I had hoped you would permit me to come and be with you for the birth of my grandchild."

Choking on her tears, Michaela nodded and quickly embraced her mother before they both broke down in their goodbye.

* * *

The ride to the train station was filled with a comfortable silence between Michaela and Sully. By Sully's insistence, Michaela was not wearing a corset and her clothing was let out, compliments of Martha. She had to admit that it felt much better. The marriage certificate was in her bag, yet to be presented to Sully.

"Home," she suddenly whispered.

"Hmm?" Sully turned his attention back towards her. He had come across Michaela and Elizabeth embracing in the study and had politely left them alone. Michaela had put a piece of paper into her bag once in their bedroom. A long and tearful goodbye to her mother, followed by Rebecca, Marjorie, Harrison and Martha in the entrance hall. Claudette and Maureen had been too busy entertaining upper class society by way of doing absolutely nothing but staring into space and the very air that they looked upon was suddenly blessed by their expert and snobbish demeanour. But since then, there had been silence.

"We're going home," she looked at him. He felt his heart smile as her eyes reflected the urge to go back to Colorado Springs.

He reached for her hand and held it firmly. "It'll be good to be back. Have the reception we promised Brian."

The flicker of worry flashed over her multicoloured eyes. "A reception three months after becoming pregnant…" She looked down, ashamed that she felt, well, ashamed. But then she looked up at him, worry that she had offended him apparent in her eyes.

He was a bit offended, a reflex and nothing more, as he knew that she was not worried about him or ashamed in the way that it had sounded. Still, he looked down at her finger that held the three rings. It was reminding him that they were married.

"We will just tell people the truth," she looked at him, her eyes shining with a trace of hope.

"The truth?"

"That we eloped. That is no lie, Sully."

"Yeah, but… we ain't got a weddin' certificate and y'know that people are gonna ask for it." He paused momentarily. "Well, not people. But Hank, Loren and Jake."

She did not say anything as she reached for her bag and opened it. Withdrawing the piece of paper, Michaela handed it to him and looked nowhere else but his eyes.

"It's from Mother."

Accepting the piece of paper, Sully unfolded it and examined the writing with the formal printing. He swallowed and looked from the paper to Michaela and back to the paper once more.

"It's a weddin' certificate." He stated the obvious. "From yer Ma?"

With a bit of a smile, Michaela explained. "She gave it to me the morning. She wants to come to Colorado Springs for the birth of the baby. We will tell people the truth, Sully. As they need to know it. We eloped. And we picked up our official marriage certificate in Boston."

Swallowing once again, he looked up at her with a gentle smile. She knew that he understood, and true to form he did not speak. He did, however, reach for her and pulled her into a loving embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"The first time you told me you love me was in Boston," she said, having said it once before.

"And on a train."

"That train later brought me home to you."

"And then it brought us back…" He reminded her.

Refusing to relive the trauma of David, she interrupted. "And brought us to the knowledge of having another child."

"And is takin' us back," he continued. "To continue our family."

The carriage came to a stop and they exited.

"Why don't ya go wait on a bench near the platform? I'll take care of the luggage." Sully offered, and Michaela chuckled and went off to find a place to rest, pulling her gloves on as she walked.

Left alone with her thoughts, she watched the bustling people moving around her. Did they ever stop and look at one another? Take in the view for all of it's glory and beauty? Then again, before she met Sully, had she ever done that?

_Only to look at the stars…_

"You look lost in your thoughts, if you do not mind my saying," a voice came beside her.

Turning, she saw a very posh looking business man with a tailoured suit. Though she was curious as to what he wanted. "Merely taking in the view."

"Not much of a view to look at," the man continued, offering his hand to accept hers. When she obliged, he gave her a cheeky grin and kissed the top of her hand. "Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Preston A. Lodge III. Is that your husband's medical bag?"

Looking at the black bag, she furrowed her brow. "No. It is mine. I am a doctor. Dr. Michaela Quinn. A pleasure to meet you."

"Really?" He exclaimed. In his eyes, she had not mentioned the fact she had a husband. In her eyes, she was hoping to get him away from her. "How fascinating. A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Quinn. Might I call you Michaela?" Before she had a chance to answer, he asked made an additional inquiry. "Are you waiting for someone?"

Weary of the man's questions, she looked at him but then mentally shrugged. "I am preparing to depart for my home, though I am originally from Boston-" He did not give her time to deny him the permission to call her by her first name.

"I knew it! Your accent!"

Michaela did not think it to be that great of an achievement. Identifying a Bostonian in Boston.

"And where might your home be, Michaela?"

"Colorado Springs."

"Michaela?" Sully's voice came by her side. He had watched the intruder with minor curiosity at first, thinking perhaps he was asking for directions. Once it was obvious that the man was not going away, Sully had felt compelled to join his wife as soon as the arrangements were mad. Standing over them, Sully looked at the man who had dared to interrupt his wife's reverie.

"Mr. Lodge," Michaela began. "This is my husband, Byron Sully. Sully, this is Mr. Lodge."

The appearance of the husband did not damper his spirits, by the looks of things. Indeed, he reached forward, his face slightly less reflective of an overly happy nature, and offered his hand. Sully took it suspiciously and shook it. "Mr. Lodge."

"Mr. Sully! I was just talking to your charming wife. But I apologise for making such inquires." Mr. Sully did not appear to be much of a man, in Preston's opinion. He was certainly rough around the edges, in spite of his suit. Smiling, he nodded and took Michaela's hand once more. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Michaela."

And with that, he departed. Michaela looked so strangely at Sully he nearly burst out laughing. The indignation on her face as he waited patiently for her to begin her rant.

And with that, she looked at him. "The audacity of that man! How strange! And his name sounds familiar…"

"Calm down. Ain't like we're gonna see him again."

* * *

Two weeks later, Sully and Michaela were bouncing in the stage towards Colorado Springs. Michaela had requested that the coach stop once so permit her to rest her unsettled stomach, though even she would admit that it was not strictly irritated by pregnancy. She was eager to see the children again. She was also quite worried about how they would react to their impending sibling.

And the reaction of her town and patients. Sighing for the hundredth time, she looked over at Sully. Michaela had entered many things in life with the façade that she did not care about other people's opinions. But the truth of the matter was that she did care. It was possibly only her stubborn nature that got her through it.

Sully was lost in his own thoughts, which paralleled Michaela's. He did not want her to suffer because of their decision and he was worried that she would regret or be the victim of scorn in the town. He had been there throughout their return to Colorado Springs, helping her silently when she was too stubborn to ask for help and only asked about the pregnancy when she was in a serene moment as not to overwhelm her with the inquiries. But even then, he couldn't help but look at her. She was rounding slightly, and the proverbial glow that surrounded women during the pregnancy had begun to stake a claim against Michaela's already beautiful features. The nausea had concerned him, though he had expressed this nervousness only through his movements and not his words.

He became aware of Michaela looking at him and he turned to catch her gaze. His hand reached over and squeezed her own gently, the reassuring touch.

"Ya doin' alright?"

Nodding, she took a deep breath and sighed. "Just nervous."

"And ya miss the kids."

"Of course I do. It's just…"

Reaching over, he kissed her cheek gently before pulling back and looking her in the eyes. "I'm here. And what's meant to happen… it'll happen."

They remained in silence for the last few miles to town, gripping one another's hands.

"There it is!" Brian hollered out, which was unnecessary considering Matthew and Colleen were right behind him. He extended his hand out and pointed a finger at the approaching stage. The last few weeks had barely been tolerable for the boy. Once Matthew had telegrammed Sully to let him know that Colleen had spilled the beans about David, and consequently Brian knew, Sully send daily telegrams to the children to update them as to their mother's progress in their health, and then at every available chance on the journey home to let them know if they were on schedule.

Regardless of these precautions, Brian had been a bit nervous that his mother and essential father would not step off of the stage today. He had been told that David was dead, certainly, but he had died before. And what if something happened to his Ma and Pa and they didn't know it? When the coach driver came in, the bustle that normally surrounded the vehicle took over. Brian felt himself shoved around from surrounding people, who were oblivious to his strife. His brow furrowed when the door of the stage did not open to reveal the passengers within. A hand fell onto his shoulder and the little boy looked up expecting the affection to have come from his brother, but instead saw Loren.

"Where are they, Mr. Bray?" he asked innocently. The men were throwing boxes around, calling out names for the various posts and the like.

"I reckon I ain't too sure, boy," he responded kindly. Perhaps the only reason he acted like this was because of Brian and the affection he felt towards that boy. "They ain't opened the doors yet, though. Can't. Clearing up the top, still. See that big trunk?" Loren pointed. It was huge, whatever it was, and five men were trying to get it off of the stage. "Can't open the door until it's cleared."

Colleen looked up at Matthew, knowing he was as uneasy as she was. Waiting for that stupid trunk to come down. Brian had been nearly impossible to live with ever since the news of David reached them. Robert E and Grace attempted to help alleviate his worries, but it was certainly nothing more than an attempt.

Soon, the giant trunk was dropped to the ground and several large men pushed it out of the way. Brian looked at the door with such focus, it was as if he could will it to open.

Finally, the door cracked and i swung open. Out stepped Sully, who had changed in Denver back to his preferred buckskins and white shirt. He immediately turned around and reached his hand back into the coach.

"MA!" Brian called out and immediately ran towards them as fast as his short legs could carry him. Before he could tackle his mother, however, Sully caught him and held the boy while Michaela turned and began to fawn over him.

"Brian!" She exclaimed, her attention immediately being divided between her three children as soon as Colleen and Matthew managed to catch up with their brother. "Colleen! Matthew!" She moved to hug Matthew and then Colleen. Sully, and then turned with Brian being supported by his one arm, shook Matthew's hand and then moved to embrace Colleen.

"Welcome home," Matthew grinned. "Was getting' a bit worried there."

"Did David hurt ya bad, Ma?" Brian looked at her, his brows furrowed. Michaela could not resist his soft and concerned looks and moved to hug him while he remained connected to Sully.

"Everything is perfect, Brian. Wonderful. As it should be." The exchanging of embraces continued once again while most of the townsfolk watched in mild curiosity. Dorothy and Olive walked towards them, their eyes bright as they came to Michaela's side.

"Hello, Michaela!" Dorothy smiled lovingly and the two women embraced before Olive took her turn.

"Welcome back, Dr. Mike."

"It is good to be home!" Michaela exclaimed, her eyes smiling with her happiness as she felt Sully's reassuring hand on the small of her back amidst all of the chaos.

"Think ya feelin' pretty well, Dr. Mike. Ya practically glowin'!" The older woman smiled at her and thought she had detected something different about the doctor. Something very different.

Brian pulled on Michaela's skirts and looked up at her. "We gonna have the weddin' reception, now?"

The silence that consumed the surrounding parties made Michaela wonder if the world hadn't frozen in time. Loren, who had been hiding behind the stage, dropped his jaw in shock that the speculation could potentially be correct. Hank, who had been nearby, stopped in the middle of a puff of his cigarette. Olive and Dorothy stood there, staring at the couple before them, Olive's hands frozen in the middle of the gesture she had been making.

"Ahh…" was Michaela's response, looking at the piercing eyes that were waiting for an answer.

"You're married?" Exclaimed Loren.

"I knew it! Alright, folks! Pay up!" Was Hank's immediate reply to Loren's answer, despite the lack of confirmation from the couple.

"Well…" Sully began, knowing that he was grinning like a fool. He looked at Michaela, their silent communication as to whether they were going to finally confirm their happiness taking place in moments.

"Yes. We are."

"Saints preserve us!" Came the voice of Grace from behind them, her hand upon her chest as she beamed her broad and beautiful smile. "Oh, we'll have to have a weddin' reception like no other! Oh, give me two days, Dr. Mike, and I promise you won't ever regret it." Before Michaela could even say a hello or give thanks, Grace was running back to the café.

Brian giggled as Matthew tickled him for announcing it as Robert E guided their buckboard towards them. Brian attempted to help the three men load up the wagon as Michaela, Colleen, Olive and Dorothy gushed to one another. The four women purposely avoided the looks from the Three Gossip Queens who stood in shock nearby.

"How long have ya been married?"

"Where was the elopement?"

"Who performed the ceremony?"

Michaela skilfully avoided the questions without lying, compliments of open ended answers. But when Sully indicated that they were ready to go, she was relieved. He helped her into the wagon and jumped in next to her.

"Well?" He said, looking at her.

"Let's go home, Sully. Let's go home."

* * *

_T__hank you all for who have read this. I am going to continue with a next section soon, so this is not the end of the story line at all. Thank you for the reviews and encouragement. Special thanks to Kruemi, Eliza, and Rianne for their help and support throughout this endeavour. _


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